Concept: An expatriate’s return to his roots.
Cover Critique: The packaging is truly excellent, in booklet style, made of something like buckram with the words catching the light. Visually, it’s spartan but very pleasant and certain to catch the eye in a CD lineup. And better no art than bad art, right? Even so, I can’t let it claim more than three stars.
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Since 2006 with his debut record The Gulag Orkestar, Zach Condon (and his moniker-turned-band Beirut) has been one of the finest and most distinctive elements on the alternative rock scene. Beirut is at or even beyond the further stretches of the “rock” umbrella, taking many of his cues from world music, though a New Mexican himself. No, Beirut is truly unique.
2011’s The Rip Tide is his latest offering and like its unassuming, simply designed buckram cover, it has light and spacious quality. Still baroque, still Beirut through and through, but gone are the claustrophobic and overly worked elements from earlier days. Zach sounds like he’s relaxed into his ambitions and the result is as pleasing as anything he’s ever done. The subject is, as ever, nostalgia. Beirut has a monopoly on nostalgia in all its forms, from the warm and happy “Oh, what a life I’ve had,” to the sort that projects itself simultaneously into the future as well as past (exemplified by Postcards from Italy) to, of course, the misty-eyed melancholy of a man lost in his memories. Beirut has all the bases covered.
Musically, the setting is simple, powered by a selection of brass (Zach in the lead with trumpet), piano, accordion, ukulele and percussion, leavened here and there by organ, bass, violin or glockenspiel….
A Candle’s Fire starts things off in an upbeat vein, more triumphant and at ease than one has come to expect from Beirut, but while the pleasantry may catch you off-gaurd (it took me a while to warm of the first two tracks) it still has that love of the by-gone old world and therefore a tinge of sadness, like that of an early, inconsequential frost.
Santa Fe is a pop song and a good one. No drum programming and the electronic elements, with their water-like drumming, offer a similar sound, to entirely different effect, as a song such as Weeping Wall. One of the most cheerful songs in the Beirut canon, it’s also a proper nod to Zach’s homeland, him having developed a quite genuine expatriate reputation.
East Harlem is quoted in the liner notes. Why? Possibly because Ryan Condon helped on the lyrics. Possibly because it is the standout track. How stately it begins on hammond organ before launching into a gorgeous arrangement of brass, piano, sticks and ukulele. Zach, blessed with an extraordinary, vibrant and distinctive voice, turns a simple bit of poetry into a thing of beauty in a performance both powerful and subtle, a rarer combo than you’d think. And when it seems to be winding down, it is instead morphing into a second movement equal to the first.
The piano moves the front on Goshen, a sad vision of a dispossessed woman which slowly gathers steam, dragging in militaristic drumming and sadly sighing trumpets and trombone. This one would blend nicely into a Civil War film.
Violin is used to great effect on Payne’s Bay, a song that quickly devolves into some kind of marching mantra with tuba, cymbals and a few extra singers to repeat with Zach “headstrong today/I’ve been headstrong,” only to end with uncommon abruptness. Keeps some variety when songs are split in two like that.
The Rip Tide itself is haunting, the best praise I can give to any song. A perfect case of understated percussion (sometimes you just don’t need that drumkit). The song conveys, in precious few words, perhaps the best example of a “retreat-from-the-world” theme I’ve yet heard. It’s almost unbearably melancholy but a highlight.
Vagabond changes gears back to the first songs on the album. While not quite as cheerful as they were, it has still got an irrepressible quality. Zach’s lyrics are always minimalist but he has the ability to turn just two words into a lament and to catch the imagination through what is inferred. Wonderful stuff.
The Peacock is a solo Zach recording, just him playing pump organ, pedal bass and trumpet. It fits beautifully, of course.
Port of Call is the icing on the cake, a delightful finale. The arrangement is flawless, building from ukulele and glockenspiel up to an ensemble of horns, subsiding, building again to perfection. The spirit of travel, arrival and departure, seasonal shifts, company contrasted with solitude, shades into every song and comes out strongest here.
In short: Buy this CD. Hell, buy all of Beirut’s CDs. This band is one of the most talented on the modern music scene and if they ever show up in Minnesota I will pay good money to go and see them. Do yourself a favour and check this music out.
See Also: Well, there’s not really much that sounds like Beirut in the world, so I can only direct you to his earlier releases, specifically The Gulag Orkestar and The Flying Club Cup.
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Introducing sound and vision!
Port of Call “live.” Bonus, because I own that pair of headphones Zach’s got…..
The Rip Tide, album version. Gorgeous visuals may possibly be TOO distracting.
East Harlem live (no headphones).