Arcade Fire Still Rules, So It's a Bummer That 'Everything Now' Doesn't

When HBO announced Confederate, a television series that imagines a USA where the Southern states have won the American Civil War, the reaction was one of eye-rolling disgust. It could be argued that this show, much like Pepsi's Kendall-Jenner-starring attempt at revolutionary imagery, is an example of big media not understanding what it is that people find compelling or necessary viewing about a world in flux. No one wants to entertain fascist fantasies if they're all around them. You need construction to counteract a perceived unravelling of humanity. That or escapism. Arcade Fire used to specialize in art that drew from both: ornately arranged music driven with pure forward momentum, in service of childlike innocence and hope. That M.O. has taken a stumble recently, as the satirical promotional campaign for the band's new album Everything Now has been met with confusion at best and revulsion at worst. The album is so far the worst-received in a discography that, after years of fawning praise, actually does hold up, especially in a live setting.

That crossroads of sorts was captured in Arcade Fire's July 27 show at Brooklyn's Grand Prospect Theatre, an event which was hosted and livestreamed by Apple Music (Full disclosure: Apple flew me in for the show, and I attended the event on their dime). Banners for fake companies titled after Everything Now songs hung around the space, but aside from singer Win Butler's sarcastic shout-out to "Chemistry… they're just a great company," and the repeated destruction of Creature Comfort cereal boxes (Cheerios littered the stage by the end), there wasn't much else done with the extended bit. Arcade Fire themselves seemed professional and committed to just the music throughout, as though nothing had changed since The Suburbs. To make a tired but effective comparison, this wasn't like 90s U2 on their performance art tip, all irony and flashiness. The music, which mainly drew from their older albums, was played with grit and little bullshit, recognizably the work of a band that emerged as a strange, giddy hybrid of Neutral Milk Hotel and Godspeed You! Black Emperor all those years ago. But the unfocused attempt at satire through the stage design only amplified the main problem with Everything Now as a whole; it regurgitates the budding dystopia of 2017 back at its audience, with barely any commentary, insight, or—importantly—solutions.

There were indeed solutions in the past; hare-brained ones, but solutions nonetheless. Funeral's thesis was that humanity gets nowhere unless it does things: "put it in… your… HANDS!' and "sleeping is giving in / no matter what the time is" serving as the most pertinent bullet points. These were songs about motion and imagination, answering the question of "what do we do now?" with a wild-eyed "I dunno, but let's just make things HAPPEN!". Elsewhere, The Suburbs saw little hope for its dead-end kids but their experiences were given romance and validation, turning specific stories into universal ones. This empathy has been replaced by the snide mockery of "Creature Comfort" and the bellyaching of "Signs of Life," as well as the just plain turgid "Chemistry." The cynicism of Everything Now is boring, but worse than that, it doesn't do anything about the present. This spiritual bankruptcy doesn't, however, poison the band's previous lofty achievements. Frankly, it's tough to think about the deadness of the human soul when their catalogue is this stacked.

An Arcade Fire show running at high gear is, putting it bluntly, the fucking best. The Grand Prospect Theatre's smaller space, plus an in-the-round stage design that emphasized the band's signature instrument-switching, gave the set some surprising chaos and scrappiness. Old classics like "Rebellion (Lies)" and "Ready to Start" were pounded out with controlled, good-natured ferocity, and "Sprawl II" (still maybe the band's crowning achievement) sparkled like it was always supposed to. Even cuts from Reflektor now sounded like a part of the family; the title track kicked off a suite of that album's strongest dance floor numbers, segueing neatly into a climactic rendition of "Power Out" from Funeral. After having seen this band live at prior shows, hearing and seeing these songs collide with a flesh-and-blood audience still has that "magic hour" effect. You know it's corny to admit it, but you feel damn privileged to be taking part.

This is why the Everything Now era undermines Arcade Fire. They excel at transforming the intimate and possibly embarrassing to grand and life-affirming. Trying to take on the core evils of this world is a lot tougher when one can only focus on and extract the bad from the surrounding noise, rather than seek the good within. The battles against late capitalism, Neo-Nazis in power, and hazardous misinformation are worthy ones to be fought, but not by looking outwards. After all, we've learned this year that consuming the corruption all at once pays no dividends, and that focusing on the self is the best first step to making larger changes. It's all frustrating from any angle.

The Brooklyn show ended with the usual rousing finale of "Wake Up," but an encore that consisted of the hushed pseudo-apocalypse prophecy "Neon Bible" ("not much chance for survival") and an unsettling reprise of "Everything Now" sung over droning feedback soured the celebratory atmosphere, possibly intentionally. Earlier in the show, Butler, after announcing solidarity for the transgender community, expressed resignation at the Trump regime's mishandling of his home country. "Please, just tell us if there's anything we can do to help," he sighed. Maybe this is no longer the man or band who sounded as though they wanted to take on the world's ills with nothing but resolve and string sections. Instead, they are weary and broken, compelled to say something but coming up empty. But sometimes you do need a rest. Sometimes the answers just aren't there. You take it easy and try another day.

I still love this band, and the Brooklyn show ultimately reaffirmed those feelings. They didn't succeed this time, but they have it in them to do so many more times. A stumble is not a total collapse. You can get back up.

Listen to 'Everything Now' below:

Phil is still trying to change all the lead sleeping in his head to gold on Twitter.