Music Criticism - Arcade Fire - "Everything Now"

The first thing one notices on their initial play-through of Arcade Fire's "Everything Now" is the disco. This effect is very deliberate. While throughout the album one finds traces and elements, sometimes even structural supports, that would have been at home on any of Prelude's releases, the first two tracks, "Everything Now" and "Signs of Life" bathe in the square multicolored lights. Rather than allowing the "20 minute line for a men's room with open urinals*" vibe to exist solely in the form of 70s string counterpoints to hook melodies of the 21^st century, the kind of thing a Pitchfork writer can think himself clever for being able to point out, the band choose to follow the noble path of El Kabong before them and smash you on the head with the influence. Their has always been a certain similarity with the way many modern acts relate to disco and the way the medieval mind viewed the heritage of antiquity (why do you think Hercules and Love Affair have such a deep affection for the Greco-Roman aesthetic). Unlike many of the medieval thinkers (and most modern acts), Arcade Fire are more than comfortable expanding on the achievements of the past.

I will use this opportunity to commit the first of many breaches of the "journalistic integrity" of pop criticism by pointing out that, while I occasionally find myself tempted to add Björn Ulvaeus to my five B's of fundamental Pop songwriting that everyone interested in making music should study in detail**, by pointing out the once-tired-and-cliche-but-now-again-relevant-because-of-people-who-resist-anything-tired-and-cliche fact that disco music is at it's core banal, stagnant, and steeped in the tradition of mosaic painting on the inside of a toilet bowl.

The Arcade Fire are also aware of this, and rather than choosing to "slyly" incorporate some of the better accouterments of the genre into a more vital pursuit like so many other acts, they have chosen to show up to 2017 in an open chested Qiana shirt. The critical establishment, being in possession of a Lear-ian tendency to judge things entirely by their surface appearance, are thus all but compelled to assess this music in regards to how it relates to the shifting tendencies of other groups, and whether the right amount of them are doing so to at the moment as their metric to decide what is worthwhile.

I am hoping that whoever reads this is also of the opinion that, if one is forced to judge beauty solely by the standards of what the broader mass of songwriters and performers at this moment consider beautiful, you end up creating a cult of the moment that is inevitably incapable of making any kind of discernment regarding true beauty. It is like a sculpture of Polyclitus being used for a mannequin by some expensive boutique; an abiding force that stands unchanging from one moment to the next even as the trends that lesser people think define it are swapped in and out.

With that out of the way lets get into the actual music.

"Everything Now" alternates between venerating and subverting Ulvaeus' subtle twists. In regards to the most fundamental components of the song's structure, such as the way the piano, guitar, flute, and strings are added and pulled not at the introduction or verses and choruses, but in a lively back-and-forth-but-also-up-and-up manner, this song would have been perfectly at home on an ABBA single. On the other hand, at one instance a chord shift will be accompanied by a picture perfect synthesizer counterpoint that seems to scream out a total absorption of the Old Master's technique, in the next a screeching dissonant squeal timed to the exact measurements of Ulvaeus' classic "throw a string ornament at a crucial point in the verse's repetition". Arcade fire, like Ulvaeus, have mastered a very particular method of songwriting, and an effective one at that. Arcade Fire, however, have managed to expand the emotive scope of their foundations. One doesn't have to commit ABBA's discography to memory to see that their are some fairly hard limitations to this style of songwriting. Like the work of Holland–Dozier–Holland before them, while it is absolutely fantastic at treating the polar extremes of the human experience (joy and despondency, or more specifically love and heartbreak), it is very much lacking when it comes to dealing with anything that falls in between or possesses the shades of subtlety far more common to what we will actually encounter in our day to day lives. Anyone who is familiar with Arcade Fire will know that this is an unacceptable prospect, so, like the Jazz greats before them (perhaps without even realizing it), they have implemented dissonance as the means of broadening this palette.

For those unfamiliar with this approach, I would suggest opening up a new tab and comparing Coltrane's go at "My Favorite Things" to the version from "The Sound of Music". By changing the chords from simple major/minor triads*** with the occasional 7th for variety, to a glorious mess of 7b5s, 9ths, and M7ths that can be found in Coltrane's version. These added notes allow a greater degree of improvisational freedom and the ability for more complex emotional expression. Arcade Fire are not looking to break away from either the Pop structure or market, but are looking to express something beyond the manic-depression that often characterizes Top 40 music not part of the Hip-Hop milieu.

To that end, both lyrically and musically, they seamlessly fit dissonance into the boilerplate motifs of their predecessors. The chorus is just as catchy as something one would hear in the waxing days of Studio 54, but in those hallowed floors one would never hear a chorus that at once gave the impression of joyful exuberance while at the same time mocking it. I am not saying this is anything new. Far from it, not even the early Indy Rock pioneers can take credit for this classic upaya****. The Beatles were fond of playing this game; if one explores the context of Casablanca's usage of "As Time Goes By" (i.e. using a song that claims the fundamentals of love remain unchanging as a backdrop for a story that takes place when the ravages of war have overturned everything, including the rules of love) you can see it in play; a more knowledgeable person could probably point to some examples in the Provencial canzones. What is different here is the way they use the structure of the music to emphasize their goal. To give a better idea of how this is done I'll give a little highlight reel:

-A Punch in the face opener of heavy orchestration and a bombastic melodic line on the piano.

-A pull-back of the instrumentation while the progression itself holds together. The vocals kick in and the piano switches to a more rhythmic instrument (in the world of disco guitars exist for rhythm).

-A slight straightening of the bass as the second stanza of the verse comes to an end, but only to tease the listener, as the song reverts to the standard "vocal verse" pattern immediately after.

-Dissonant draggy strings on the third stanza, which continue as a burst of the vocal harmony enters the mix (the "everything now")

-As the third stanza continues the strings seem to go where they please, at first content to hop around at will in dissonant pirouettes, but then settling into a glorious harmonization with the main melody at "I pledge allegiance to everything now".

-At the fourth stanza the strings decide they don't like playing nice after all,and take a sudden nosedive, before doing a neat little between-line counterpoint, before flip-flopping back to dissonance.

-The chorus hits, and as per the Ulvaeus playbook, the vocal harmonies go full force at the end of every line. We also get a new melodic instrument, a variety of woodwind that I absolutely should be able to identify but can't, so you'll have to settle for "the woodwind".

-The flute does not confine itself to the chorus, but manages to get some alone time with the strings and decides it likes it enough to stick around for a while.

-The full-bodied "Intro Verse" comes back, with a new friend in the form of the woodwind, who joins smoothly with the piano.

-The woodwind leaves but the piano sticks around for the next round of the "Vocal Verse", and the strings get even friskier in their forbidden explorations.

-The second chorus adds some call and response talk-speak, and for the first time we get some firm dissonance in the sacred chorus.

-Rather than switch to a third "Vocal Verse", we are instead treated to a lovely pseudo-audience-at-a-concert chanting while the strings seem to gain a measure of acceptance regarding their manic-depressive temperament.

-The "Intro Verse" instrumentation is merged with the chorus for a final bang before:

-Everything is pulled back for the finish.

Go find a fucking ABBA song. I'm not going to even suggest one because as far as I know you can take any of them and do a side by side comparison and you will see a rough outline of the approach I described above minus the fun with the strings and plus some nifty little tricks in the key change department.

I hope I have gotten across why this is such a magnificent achievement in its mastery of both the traditional songwriting and the subversive alteration, because it's time to move on. And before anyone thinks they are clever by calling attention to the fact that I just spent an inordinate amount of time treating a song that makes fun of the ridiculous amount of knowledge available to the present age and its lack of value, I will quote Sideshow Bob in saying that "I am aware of the irony, so don't bother pointing that out."

“Signs of Life” uses a similar approach to “Everything Now” buy replaces Ulvaeus with the brothers Gibb, swapping in some handclaps, a well-oiled, prominently positioned bassline, those impossibly high Bee Gees responses that everyone either loves or hates. In doing this they have successfully covered the entire span of good disco songwriters, and are prepared to move on to new terrain. While not prominent, there is a lovely little saxophone motif that I cannot help but call your attention to.

The lyrics follow a similar approach to that seen in “Everything Now”, with a singsong chorus that belies its subversive subject matter. Again, this is old hand, but it is also well done. I have a soft spot in my heart for lyrics that view the night out through the eyes of a French existentialist, so my preference has to go to “Signs of Life” on the lyric front.

While a straight up start to finish disco release from Arcade Fire would undoubtedly be hilarious, it would also be a Kaufmanesque amount of work for a single joke, so on “Creature Comfort”, the band move out of pure disco and into influenced-by-disco-but-also-by-a-ton-of-other-things approach that allows music writers to fill up page space simply describing the constituent components, and is therefore given preferential treatment. Like I said before, the disco-punch that opens the album is a very deliberate choice.

The synthesizers here owe as much to the amalgamations of M83 as to the soil of the 1980s that both grew out of. The lyrics strike an odd midpoint between the cynicism of the first two songs and actual engagement with the struggles of life. There is a reason Patton Oswalt chose this band as his stereotypical example of jaded indie detachment, and while later songs show that the band can transcend this when they take on the task wholeheartedly, here the former outshines the latter.

If people have really gotten tired of this little game of who can step back the farthest from the world I am extremely sympathetic, but if you look at any of the publications that shit on Arcade Fire for this you'll find that those same authors praising far less talented acts who are far less good at it than Arcade Fire are, so as long this is how we're doing things, thrusting your annoyance onto one of the few groups who do it well seems ridiculous.

“Peter Pan” is a more modern track than the ones that came before it, it is also the first song to express committed sentimentality. The high piano notes that play tight little chords at the end of the lines tugs at the heartstrings, and, combined with the sincerity of the vocals, elevates a collection of “dorm whiteboard” lyrics. The weird stretchy synth that separates the chorus and the verse probably has some purpose, but I confess myself immune to any charms it may possess.

“Chemistry” draws on the reggae tradition as well as classicist Jackson 5 lyrics to create something that is surprisingly pleasant. The chorus borrows some things from the stadium rock of Glitter and Jett but I think reggae and the Jacksons are a better focal point. This song, unlike the disco openers, takes its lyrical forbears at face value. While this mode of expression can be very limiting if one adheres to it (see my earlier comments about HDH), if one lands on it as a honeybee lands on a flower, just long enough to extract what is vital, the end result can be very endearing. The fact that Arcade Fire pulled this off is one of the bigger surprises of the album.

The two “Infinite Content”s see the band returning to jaded detachment at the modern zeitgeist. The first part once again shows the influence of M83, and provides an uptick in the tempo at the exact right time such an increase is called for. I'll risk overburdening my point by once again pointing out the bands sense of craftsmanship, but this time in regards to the albums overall progression rather than the individual songs. The sense of the big picture is fleshed out by the sudden jump to the slower paced second part of the song. Both pieces function much in the way that ginger functions at a sushi restaurant: the sudden rise and just as sudden drop cleanses the palate and readies it for what is to come, while at the same time leaving a taste that is characteristic of the experience as a whole.

In “Electric Blue”, we see the linear combination of three synthesizer lines: A) a punctuated series of bass notes, B) a mid-range primary riff, C) a quick series of high notes. We see stacked up vocals that linger just a little bit longer on the high parts. We see the band pulling it all back for the pre-chorus. We see the [term I wish existed that strikes a middle ground between “Non-lexical vocables” and “gibberish words”].

The combination of these seeds brought Yeasayer a bountiful harvest. M83 were able to glean some of what remained, along with a host of subpar imitators. As it stands now the field is barren. Every permutation that the minds of our era are capable of producing has been done, and some time is needed for it to lie fallow before new seeds can reinvigorate this technique with fresh energy.

While the techniques and sonic palette of “Good God Damn” fit within the general scope of what people in our current epoch our doing, what this song really calls to my mind is the ability of The Rolling Stones, when a real fire was lit, to perfectly employ effortless guitar riff with a lot of open space and a vocal performance just detached enough to let the subtle aching really seep through. I deliberately avoid delving into the person issues that artists bring into the studio as well as whatever predigested vermin the promotion machine wants to vomit into the public's gaping mouth, both in my personal life and in my writing, but the theme of suicide that was touched on casually in “Creature Comforts” is here treated in depth. If I had to guess many of you are already familiar with whatever backstory lies behind this, as the press much prefers to write about stuff like that than about the actual music. While I do not give a fuck about the narrative of what occurred, it would be remiss on my part to not acknowledge that a very particular suicide seems to have a large thematic role in the album, and that the best treatment of said theme can be found in this song.

I consider myself to be something of a connoisseur of one off vocal flourishes that reveal worlds of suffering beneath them. I am fairly confident that, if pressed, I could write an article longer than most reviews of this album on the “Oh God” at the end of Peter Laughner's “Ain't it Fun”*****. While not as stunning as that moment, the aspiration between “God” and “Damn” at the 2:30 mark certainly has a place on my longlist.

In fact, the total vocal performance of this song is fucking great.

As with the majority of the album, there is nothing revolutionary about “Put Your Money on Me”, but the ability of this band to write pop songs is, I almost feel confident enough to declare unequivocally, better than any other group making music right now. Here we see a return to some of the vocal devices used in their previous albums mixed thoroughly with the broader aesthetic sensibility of this release to produce a pleasant upbeat little ditty whose faults can be said to be identical to the fundamental faults in pop releases that do not touch on the transcendent. If you have a high opinion of this form then there is nothing in this song save the way it relates to your own personal quirks to say against it. If you have a general contempt for pop than this would not be the song I played you to try to change your mind.

“We Don't Deserve Love” brings an interesting question to my mind: Why is it that, while one of the first things you learn in any community college creative writing class is that you should never write a story about a writer, while songs written by touring acts that deal with the road hit well ahead of the bell curve?

Of course Arcade Fire know how to close out an album. I hope you'll forgive me for not going into too much detail here, but there is enough going on in this song that if I were to try to break it down I would almost certainly end up with another “Everything Now” writeup, and I'm guessing those of you with the patience to get this far don't want that any more than I want to write it. So with that said I'll move on to my closing remarks.

Look, I know that those of you who have read this far are probably a bit baffled as to the value of these admittedly mean spirited attacks on the critical establishment that have peppered this piece. There is a good reason for both my anger and its inclusion in a write-up on the latest Arcade Fire album. I'm hoping that you have not come away from this with the impression that I am so concerned with protecting the bands good name that any offense against them is tantamount to a personal attack on my very being. Based on the Billboard performance of the album I'm guessing that Arcade Fire don't give a shit about what the blogs have to say about them. So why work myself into a froth, and why here?

Why? Because this album shines a perfect light on the systemic, unignorable, and unforgivable issues with the modern pop criticism apparatus. To the extent that the great mass of critics have on average placed value on certain attributes of music over others this album nearly always meets those values. Of course pop critics will never lay down any firm guidelines for what they consider good music to be, that would give away the show. Instead they will hide their prejudice behind relativism and their fickleness behind undelineated objectivity.

The fact that so many publications shit on this album is flat out ridiculous. Long ago, deep in the mythic past, music publications would take the output of musical acts, acts that varied in the quality of the content they were putting out, and let readers get some kind of foothold on the value of a release by way of a skilled****** assessment. Now, in the year of our lord 2017, we have reached the point where a band can put out releases which consistently hold to the line of superior craftsmanship, expansive range, and an innate sensibility to how the sounds of the past can be reconstituted to form a meaningful soundtrack to the present, and in doing so can present the reader with a guide to how the opinions of the various publications fit within their personal critical standards.

Why get myself worked up? Because when we listen to sounds that provoke the deep wellsprings of our passion, there is a natural tendency for that passion to search for some channel of eruption. In linguistics, there is a theory that is gaining ground that music underlies language acquisition. That the advent of complex speech was a modulation of the musical cries of warning seen in many kinds of monkeys, and the connection between the two has not subsided with the development of our fancy buildings and braided cable networks. We naturally turn to our fellow humans to try and communicate the sonic connections music sparks in our primal depths.

The thing is, we are also very suggestible creatures, look no further than Milgram's work to see how the suggestions of a perceived authority figure introduce real cognitive change. So the fact that we have handed over a huge amount of control over what music gets shared, promoted, and ultimately allowed to be expressed to a wide audience to a group of people who are incapable of producing any kind of clear guideline on what they do and do not consider good music; people who half listen to an album once or twice and then free associate whatever words from the "List of 1000 or so Acceptable Adjectives for Music Criticism" happen to strike their fancy; people who use their best divination of the prevailing stylistic winds to try and position themselves among the high seers of our age without the slightest regard for the actual content of what they are supposed to be talking about; people who often give me the impression of taking a sadistic joy in the wanton abuse of their little sliver of power in the building and dismantling of bands; is in the end something that anyone who sincerely believes this stuff to be worthwhile has to cry out against.

*It would be a bit presumptuous on my part to assume that everyone who reads this has an intimate familiarity with the etiquette of cocaine, especially since this reference could just as easily be construed as relating to the practices of some of the less civilized communities in our Southern marches.

**Beatles, Beach Boys, Burt Bacharach. Björn Ulvaeus ruins the alliteration and actually forces the number of B's down from five to four, so you can see my dilemma.

*** i.e. a chord composed of the root/tonic, or "main note" of the chord; the fifth, which is the most consonant note when compared to the tonic; and either a major or minor third note depending on whether it is a major or minor chord.

****Upaya, or skillful means, is a Sanskrit term used by Mahayana Buddhists to refer to a technique that subtle brings about Enlightment in a person without either the work involved in more traditional practices or (in many cases) even the subject's intention to become Enlightened. A classic example of this can be found in the Zen Koans that feature a master using a sudden, incomprehensible, and typically socially (if not legally) disapproved action to bring awareness to an unsuspecting person.

*****Please don't let either Dead Boys' terrible cover, Guns'N'Roses' terrible cover of Dead Boys' terrible cover, or the shitty recording quality stop you from checking this song out. Seriously, please please go listen to this track. The video for this song has 360 fucking views on YouTube. Also, as a side note to Smog Veil, what the fuck is going on with that remaster/box set I have spent the better part of a decade waiting on.

******As the legend of the Minotaur transformed itself from a bull baiting ring in Crete to the tale we are all familiar with in the passage of time, so also goes my perception of the skill and ability of the critics of yesterday. For those of you wondering why the start and end of this article are littered with references to antiquity while the meat and potatoes is almost entirely lacking, it was because I intended at the onset (when I wrote the introduction and conclusion) to really go nuts with the whole disco is to us what Greece and Rome were to the medievals, and use it as a running theme throughout the article, but in the end I found it too much of a burden to carry through the whole piece, and I am not a good enough writer to simply kill this particular darling off.