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>http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/arcade-fires-reflektor-still-devoid-of-wit-subtlety-and-danger-now-with-bongos/2013/10/28/6471097a-4004-11e3-9c8b-e8deeb3c755b_story.html > >Arcade Fire’s ‘Reflektor’: Still devoid of wit, subtlety and >danger, now with bongos > >By Chris Richards, Published: October 28 > >Look, I’m sure they’re very nice people, but on their fourth >album, “Reflektor,” Arcade Fire still sound like gigantic >dorks with boring sex lives. > >After winning a Grammy for album of the year in 2011, they’re >still the biggest rock band on the block, still making music >mysteriously devoid of wit, subtlety and danger. And now, >they’re really into bongo drums, too. We should all be >repulsed. Only partially because of the bongos. > >Mostly because this is rock music that lazily presumes life on >the digital plane has made us so numb, so unable to feel for >ourselves, that the only way to reach our hearts is by >applying a pneumatic hammer to our classic rock pleasure >centers. Bowie! Springsteen! Talking Heads! Blam-blam-blam! >Bludgeoning and vacant, “Reflektor” is an album that both >condescends and sells itself short, over and over again, for >76 insufferable minutes. > >The band’s problems are laid bare early with “We Exist,” a >mid-tempo sulker that initially sounds like Fleetwood Mac >trying to moonwalk through “Billie Jean” in uncomfortable >footwear. Frontman Win Butler — still as dreadful a lyricist >as ever — tries to correct his charisma deficiency with an >affected sneer: “You’re down on your knees, begging us please, >praying that we don’t exist.” (Dramatic pause.) “We exist!” > >They exist! But who are they? After four albums, Arcade Fire >are still struggling to present themselves as distinct and >compelling human beings. Their anthems feel like cavernous >vessels vast enough to stow the most bloated of emotions, but >it’s always been on the listener to fill them up. > >Too frequently on “Reflektor,” Butler’s lyrics assume a murky >us-against-them posture. It’s intended to feel like an >insidery group hug, but it only highlights his band’s chronic >personality gap. And when co-vocalist Regine Chassagne >materializes to play Butler’s vocal foil, she toggles between >cheerleadery English and breathy French, because — ooh-la-la — >it wraps these bland songs in a thin cloak of cosmopolitan >sophistication. > >Butler is at his most irritating with “Normal Person,” pulling >David Byrne’s oversize blazer out of the closet and asking, >“Is anything as strange as a normal person? Is anyone as cruel >as a normal person?” > >You tell us, dude. When a band this massively popular, this >risk-averse, this patently un-weird takes heartfelt shots at >the “norms,” it’s hard to decide whether to laugh, barf or >weep for the future of rock-and-roll itself. > >Because great art should crack away at what came before, >right? This band has spent the past nine years dutifully >re-creating it, namely the ponderous grandeur of U2. And on >“Reflektor,” they’ve done it with the help of producer James >Murphy, the former LCD Soundsystem frontman whose good taste >has now been thrown in question. > >He has swaddled “Reflektor” in warm analog synthesizers and >stretched it over a bongo-popping grid, doing his best >imitation of Brian Eno, the guru behind David Bowie’s “Low,” >Talking Heads’ “Remain in Light” and U2’s “Achtung Baby.” > >But “Reflektor” isn’t neoclassicism. It’s something >conservative pretending to be something bold. It’s Sandra >Bullock’s hack dialogue in “Gravity.” It’s square, sexless, >deeply unstylish, painfully obvious rock music. It’s an album >with a song called “Porno” that you could play for your >parents. It’s fraud. >
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