Kansas City Blog

1. When I grow up, I want to make a postmodern biopic of frontman/mastermind James Murphy wherein he interviews me pretending to be him, while he pretends to be Bruce Willis. Then the two of us will go out and beat up obnoxious whinyboy rock-movie actor Michael Pitt, who will pretend to be himself.

2. James Murphy realizes that there is a kid in all of us who wants little more than to climb trees and dance to Daft Punk. It was those French robots, after all, who caused -- via a reverse-space-time reverberation -- the apple to be shaken loose from the tree and drop onto Isaac Newton's head. Not to mention this hand jive...

3. A particular LCD song compelled the likes of Franz Ferdinand and John Cale to render probably the year's most inspired covers.

The three compared:

The original:

A Slate essay on the phenomenon: "The Melancholy Greatness of 'All My Friends'"

For further appreciation: Steve Reich.

4. More soul, better beats and smarter arrangements than anything "danceable" that's come out of New York since the first ironic mustache appeared on the streets of Williamsburg. Long live DFA. Plus, the chubby Mr. Murphy can actually sing.

5. And write interesting lyrics.

Whereas...

ARCADE FIRE = uuhhh

The religiously followed Montreal indie rock band certainly do give it their all on stage -- and on record -- singing and pounding their instruments so hard you expect them to start levitating any minute. Such is the vibe on their second album, this year's Neon Bible. It's easy on the ears sure, but how many songs have come out in the past three years that have the same basic riff and structure, hollow guitars and driving beats as Bible's best track? If you don't know, then you probably haven't heard the National, Interpol or Broken Social Scene. Talk about lowest common denominators. (And of them all, only the National crafts interesting, hearfelt songs in that style.)

Other songs, like Keep the Car Running, mimic Bruce Springsteen, but with religious angst in place of the rock and roll.

(In fact, where is the rock in indie rock? Where's the soul? All I'm seeing these days is the indie -- that shallow nuance force that drives forth the IRONIES OF HIPSTERS, like herds of vintage-clothing-adorned wildebeest, to sold-out Animal Collective shows on the Lower East Whatever.)

I don't mean to piss on the parade of anyone who enjoyed themselves at the Starlight show. I especially hope that the dude in the Kangol hat who got through security and danced up on stage only to be danced off again by the shortest, dorkiest member of the Arcade Fire wielding a marching drum and Fraggle-like floppy hair -- I hope he had a real good time. Hell, I had a good time. I sang my ass off to the songs from the first album -- the songs everyone knows and likes. Now, I didn't sing my ass off the way gypsy-coated, broken-throated Kate Bush impersonator Regine Chassagne did. But I did marvel at the way her sour voice curdled my beer. And seriously, they need to reassign bass guitar duties from lead singer Win Butler (who has one of the coolest voices in indie rock and doesn't need an instrument strapped to him) to someone in the band who can actually play the instrument when it needs to be played -- if there are any such musicians in the band. Put that hurdy gurdy on a backing track and play something more useful live. As I said to a friend during one of the many audience clapalongs: "If the Arcade Fire catches you clapping off rhythm, they'll ask you to join the band."

I venture that the Arcade Fire is in an unrecognized sophomore slump. The first album was great -- Funeral, btw -- then the hype blew them to unattainable expectations, but that doesn't matter because they're indie GODS now who can do no wrong. If it doesn't make all the difference, then it at least helps that they've put on a ton of high-profile, well-received shows backing the new release -- most all of which have necessarily climaxed with the best songs from Funeral.

So, enjoy them while you can. They probably won't be around long. Maybe in eight or nine years, Win Butler will put out a solo album on which he really gets to the heart of things and writes some naked, compelling songs. In the meantime, Murph and I have some punk ass to kick.

MEANWHILE: For those seeking a more measured, even-headed review, my colleague and concert buddy A to Z has just posted her own take. She's right about Will.I.Am, too. That shit is DOPE.