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The word precocious could have been invented to describe Zachary
Francis Condon, the driving force behind the band Beirut. Back in
2006, at an age when most wannabe rock musicians are still knocking
out cover versions in local clubs while waiting for their big break,
the then 20-year-old New Mexico native released an astonishingly
accomplished, mature debut album inspired by the folk music of the
Balkans, Gulag Orkestar.
A year later, with the critical acclaim still
ringing in his ears, Condon followed up with The Flying Club Cup,
which shifted across Europe from the east to the west with its homage
to French chanson, while 2008’s double EP March of the Zapotec/Holland
was a bizarre combination of Mexican influences and electronica.
Barely old enough to buy a drink legally in his own country, he’d
already imbibed and reinterpreted a headier cocktail of global musical
traditions than most artists would attempt over an entire career.
Now Condon’s back again with his first album proper for four years,
and what we get with The Rip Tide is essentially a distillation of all
the diverse ingredients that have shaped Beirut’s earlier records,
rather than a focus on the music of one particular country or region.
The resulting collection of songs, while hardly conventional pop, is
certainly his most immediate and accessible yet, occupying similar
territory to Sufjan Stevens’s outstanding Illinois album with
its breezy, exuberant melodies and intricate, ambitious arrangements.
The Rip Tide also sees Condon shedding his musical chameleon skin
to reveal more about the man underneath. A case in point is second
track Sante Fe, a very personal reflection on the New Mexico hometown
he’s hitherto seemed determined to escape in pursuit of a worldly
education. Yet as he plaintively sings “sign me up, Santa Fe/call
your son” its as if he’s now ready to return to and embrace his roots
after his globetrotting youth – an emotional transition that’s
undoubtedly reflected in his music.
Goshen is another example of Condon’s new take on life. Beginning
with a lone piano, the song slowly builds into a lament to a
beleaguered traveller – quite possibly the Beirut prodigy himself –
longing for the security of a familiar resting place, with lyrics like
"you never found it home/a fair price I'd pay to be alone,”
encapsulating the turmoil he has felt. Maybe for the first time,
there’s a sense on The Rip Tide that the songs themselves are centre
stage, rather than the exploration of diverse musical moods and
textures that has dominated Condon’s earlier records.
Of course, this being Beirut, there’s still plenty of eccentric,
colourful touches that ensure Condon continues to stand out from more
prosaic performers. In particular, his love of brass continues to
flourish unabated. Payne’s Bay begins with yearning strings and
pulsating pump organ before the arrival of a wonderfully stately
marching band provides the perfect accompaniment to Condon’s admission
that “I’ve been headstrong today/I’ve been headstrong.” On songs like
this, Beirut balance compositional virtuosity with irresistible
catchiness in a way few artists can match.
The only real criticism of The Rip Tide is that at 33 minutes it’s
rather too short, ending almost before you know it and leaving you
wanting more. Had Condon come up with another two or three songs of
similar quality, it could have been an even greater achievement. But
that’s a relatively minor gripe. This is the most consistently
impressive Beirut record yet, proving its creator is now able to
harness his occasional excesses and directly engage with his audience
without losing the invention and flair that make him such a rare
talent.
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