You can pre-order the record now. I'm really starting to enjoy their new Seventies aesthetic, and while I haven't quite made up my mind about 'Month of May', I love 'The Suburbs enough to be convinced that this will be a rather fine record. Also, in Arcade Fire's usual playful way, there's a little fun to be had with the lyrics on their website. There are still some unconfirmed rumours - is it a double album? Could it possibly be a triple album? Apparently the band have recorded 38 songs. Quite probably, all will be revealed later on today when brothers Will and Win Butler answer questions on NPR.
The most notable thing here might be that neither of these songs sound particularly like Arcade Fire. 'Month of May' is a little less punk than had initially been assumed, but it's still a bit further down Thunder Road than they've gone before. 'The Suburbs' is my favourite right now, just for that gorgeously autumnal piano, and that chorus, that seems almost ill-fitting, like an aerial attack on the rest of the song. You know?
Sunday is gloomy, and Monday's not much better. The sun has rolled away into a pocket again, and at work the chairs are empty and waiting, and there's not many things to fit into the time between now and then. But there's a day, and maybe time to listen to about fifteen albums if you really dedicated yourself.
The year's been rather fine so far. Just last week I bought two consecutive number one albums, and as a friend remarked, it's pretty unusual to be buying two consecutive number one albums in this country. It's even more unusual that they're both Irish, and doubly so that one of them is without the benefit of a label. And by the time you get to the fact that the pair of them have topped both the mainstream and indie charts, and the fact that one of them plays on both records, the unusualness of the whole situation has been doubled, tripled and folded back over on itself so often that there's no understanding it at all.
Cathy Davey's The Nameless is quite possibly my favourite of the year so far. It's an impressive step onward from her past triumphs - as much as I love the heart-on-her-sleeve romance of 'Sing for your Supper', the fact that there's not much of that on the new record doesn't detract one bit from its finery. It's an odd album, and interesting mix of concept and confession, an exploration of the presence of death in the lives of the bereaved, and an expression of the lovelorn grief after an ended relationship.
The troubled heart of the record is 'Bad Weather', a song about a couple watching love disappear down a crackling phone line, separated by seas and borders. It's heartbreaking, and grows directly from the soft patter of songs like the above 'Gloomy Sunday', a Billie Holiday cover.
This last week, it's Villagers' debut, Becoming a Jackal that's been continuing the wave of Irish triumph. A charming mix of songwriter craftsmanship and sheer originality, it demands to be played as a whole, working its magic through its gorgeous lyrics, eery aesthetic, and gentle emotional persuasion. I need to get my head around it some more before I figure out exactly what I love about it, a task that will surely be made simpler once the new recording of 'The Meaning of the Ritual' stops moving me to tears on the train. The old demo version is less shivery, and more celebratory, so let's listen to that one for now, and hope it's a good week.
I've written about Villagers before, but I've been listening to the album almost non-stop since last week, and I can't quite begin to describe how much I love it. I'm certainly not going to manage it with a handful of sentences, but hopefully I'll be able to get a handle on it soon. Until then, get a copy of your own, and watch the above performance. It's a thing of wonder.
Last night someone began working on redesigning Arcade Fire's website ahead of their new tour, and the above words were seen for a while, as reported by both Joel and Pitchfork. But if you've been paying attention to the band's moves lately, a preoccupation with all things suburban is nothing surprising. First, there's the above picture, previously to be found here after their last redesign, now vanished. That picture is from a 1973 collection entitled Suburbia, by photographer Bill Owens. I guess it could be the album cover, but that would be the first time the band haven't had a cover specifically designed by Tracy Maurice.
There's also the single promo image that accompanies the new live announcements, which is certainly in a similar vein. And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, there's Scenes from the Suburbs, the band's collaboration with Spike Jonze.
Obviously, this is mostly speculation. But it seems likely that the album may be titled The Suburbs, and that it may, in its subject matter and aesthetic, deal with that kind of world. It would be an interesting change for Arcade Fire. Until we know more, I recommend that you check out some of the photos from Suburbia, they're really quite brilliant.
I've been listening to Mixylodian for a while now, but this is the first time I've heard sex in one of their songs. It seems like something I don't hear too often from the kind of musicians I favour, sex free of any catches, no doubts or reservations, just a kind of impulse that needs to be followed, the question on your lips that you want to put on someone else's. I think they get it right here, too, the weird mix urgency and love, gentleness and passion. There's the ticking beat, the softly insistent vocals, the frantic guitar at the close, everything in the right place.
This is the first song on Mixylodian's new record, Wild in Church, and it's stunning. You can buy the album right here.
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Unrelatedly, that business with IMRO led to a meeting last week, between them, we three bloggers, and an extremely capable and helpful solicitor. You can read more about the meeting here, but the main thing is that IMRO were quite willing to engage with us, and it went well. Keep an eye on the Facebook group for updates.
I've been listening to The Nameless for almost a week now, and I think I'm finally ready to say that Cathy has truly outdone herself, making an album of beauty and complexity that surpasses even Tales of Silversleeve. There are songs here that show a mastery of a range of styles and ideas, from the misty-eyed longing of 'Bad Weather' to the pocket pop of 'Happy Slapping'. The record unites the common strands of her previous two albums, displaying a real identity and personality all her own. This is what a Cathy Davey album sounds like, and it's spectacular.
I'll have more thoughts on the record to share in the next few days, but for now, get yourselves over to Cathy's Facebook (or MySpace, if you're so inclined) page to stream some songs from the record, like the glorious 'Army of Tears', which you can stream above. The album is out Friday.
