Arcade Fire: The Suburbs

Win Butler, lead singer of Arcade Fire, does not claim to be Christian. Having been raised Mormon, he would later take theology classes at McGill University in Montreal. Today, he is not a churchgoer but still claims to be a very “spiritual” person. In fact, while discussing the band’s previous album, Win said, “Neon Bible is addressing religion in a way that only someone who actually cares about it can. It’s really harsh at times, but from the perspective of someone who thinks it has value.” I think he's closer and more sympathetic to it than he realizes.

While Arcade Fire’s latest concept album, The Suburbs, is quite a departure from their last two, both musically and thematically, religion is still scattered throughout. Two lines of interest occur in the same song, the climax of the record, entitled “City with No Children.” The first is an indication of the band’s maturity since the release of their somewhat smug (although quite good) Neon Bible.

You never trust a millionaire quoting the Sermon on the Mount

I used to think I was not like them but I'm beginning to have my doubts

My doubts about it.

After specializing in (oftentimes warranted) accusation on their last album, Win seems to be in touch with his own baggage. The cries against the Church and Joe Simpson (the pop-singer Jessica Simpson's father), while redirected, have also been injected with a healthy sense of humility. This idea is reiterated as the album comes to a close with part two of the title track, opening with, “If I could have it back/ all the time that we wasted/ I’d only waste it again.” This is not the Arcade Fire we’re used to hearing! Where is the subtle “‘wake up’ let’s change the world” motif found on their previous albums and public appearances?

The answer to this question is found in the second line of interest in “City With No Children,” where Win sounds awfully familiar to St. Paul in the first three chapters of Romans:

When you’re hiding underground

The rain can’t get you wet

But do you think your righteousness can pay the interest on your debt?

I have my doubts about it.

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"Not Afraid" Vs. "Love the Way You Lie": Eminem and the Limits of Pelagianism

What I’ve never figured out is if everyone hates Eminem, how’d he sell so many records? Somebody must have liked him. So I’ll confess first—I liked him enough to bleach my hair blonde my freshman year of high school (yeah, I'm just that cool.) While never a huge fan of rap, I (secretly) resonated with Marshall Mathers’ rhymes. His lyrics weren’t limited to sex and money and so I took interest. As a young, nervy kid, who needed a way to deal with his manufactured angst, I could throw on a track and decompress.

But that was a long time ago. My interest in the “white rapper” waned around 2003, and I haven’t kept up with his career until recently. About a month ago, I heard his new single on the radio and it reminded me of his early stuff. I’m sure that ten years ago, I would have loved it, because “Not Afraid” is all about “manning up” or picking yourself up by your own bootstraps. You might be in the dumps, but all you need to do is have the courage to “take a stand,” and try a little harder.

Having experienced complete failure in all my attempts to perfect myself, all I could do was roll my eyes when I heard this song. I mean if anyone should understand the bound will, “the fact that we are not nearly as free as we think,” it is the self-proclaimed screw-up that is Marshall Mathers—the man who has alienated himself from his wife and child, time-and-time again.

Needless to say, the public ate it up. The track became a #1 hit in no time. And I would have been happy to go the rest of my life without hearing another song from the prince of controversy.

But the other day, during a six hour trip back to Ambridge, PA, I put on some top-40 radio and heard his latest single, “Love the Way You Lie.” This time around he was rapping alongside pop-star Rihanna. While I expected the typical rap duet proclaiming the glories of money, power, and sex, to my surprise there was a different message altogether--one that contradicted the Pelagian self-confidence of the first single.

“Love the Way You Lie” is an inside look at an unhealthy relationship. Its reflection on love in the midst of domestic abuse is haunting, and yet deeply human. It’s a picture of a man who “does not do what he wants, but the very thing he hates,” and he knows he can’t-just-change. While all the lyrics are worth checking, here is a particularly troubling verse:
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Two New Arcade Fire Tracks!

Two new Arcade Fire tracks are streaming online. You can find them here.

Charcoal and Grace: The National's "High Violet"

Other than Vampire Weekend's "Contra" and maybe Spoon's "Transference" (I have not yet heard The Hold Steady's latest), not much music of the Pitchfork variety has blown my mind in 2010. In fact, for one who dishes out way too much money on music, if you looked at my credit card bill, I’ve actually saved some money this year.

With that said, I’ve been anticipating The National’s latest for some time. Worried that it wouldn't match the brilliance of 2007’s “Boxer,” I came to it with high expectations-usually a recipe for disappointment. Fortunately, this five-piece from Brooklyn has put together their best record yet. Few albums in these digital days deliver the satisfaction of a truly complete album- this is one of them.

If you’re new to The National, understand that it takes three-to-four spins to appreciate Matt Berninger’s distinctive baritone, but once you’re hooked, there are few voices in indie rock that compare.

Most of the album is haunting and dark. Fishing for meaning in indie rock is always dangerous, but suffice it to say, themes of insecurity, fear, depression, and failure are effectively communicated through both the music and lyrics here. I’m also going to advance the argument that the overall progression of “High Violet” reflects a bit of a Law and Gospel paradigm, where death is very real, but so is redemption.
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Balm For the Soul: Sandra McCracken's Feast Or Fallow

This one comes from mockingfriend Ben Dehart:

“We cannot afford to lose these old hymns, they are full of the Gospel…” Basil Manley (1891)

Every December Paste Magazine publishes a list of their top fifty albums of the year. Each year I scan the picks searching for the worthy successors to Led Zeppelin and U2. Needless to say, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

2008 was like any other year. I found myself nodding in agreement with some of their selection, shaking my head in dismay at others, and completely ignorant of most. But as I reached the end of the list I saw a write up for a Sandra McCracken, referred to as the better half of Derek Webb.

Being a fan of the last few Webb albums, I decided to give her album “Red Balloon” a spin. Since then, I’ve been hooked. While by no means Robert Plant’s, her voice has a more transcendent feel, one that Paste reviewer Jason Killingsworth calls “cloud-splitting.”

Her latest release, In Feast or Fallow has been advertised as a collection of ancient and modern hymns. When I first heard this I was skeptical. It reminded me of the eight thousand mediocre-at-best “worship projects” that have been released by every faith-based artist in the past few years.

Fortunately, Sandra has once again proven that she should not be classified along with the other CCM artists. After one listen, my unwarranted fears were laid to rest. In Feast or Fallow is a beautifully written cohesive collection of earthy songs with Cross-centered lyrics. Music one might actually want to sing in church, the car, or the kitchen. As the album progresses the songs only get better as “Give Reviving,” “This is the Christ,” and “In Feast or Fallow” make this album truly great.

Vertical hymns that address real fears are often the best of church music. This fifteen song collection succeeds where many others have failed.

Here is Sandra at her best with an acoustic version of the title track. Enjoy!

P.S. In Feast or Fallow is available (legally) for $3.85 through Amie St.