BLOGZIL!

So ever since their debut album in September my high-school friend Win Butler and his band The Arcade Fire have been tearing up indie rock circles around the US. It's been really gratifying to follow their progress from afar, reading reviews such as these, and hearing about how their shows keep on needing to be relocated to larger venues because they sell out so quick. But I knew things had finally gotten out of hand when my friend Marta, with whom I had been listening to the album on my computer, brought me the following article. Granted it's from a São Paulo paper, the only city in Brazil with a sizable mass of hipsters, but the fact it exists at all is a bit shocking to me. Nobody in NYC had heard of them in August, and now the reviews have followed me here. And Brazil is not an indie rock country. The translation below is my own. I translated everything pretty literally since I thought it was funnier that way, and also because I don't know enough Portuguese to really figure it all out. In the end, I think it's a pretty poorly-written article in any language.

(p.s. I also recently found a 13-member Brazilian Arcade Fire online fan club.)

Frente a frente com o fenômeno
Álvaro Pereira Júnior

Na primeira meia hora de show, a banda TODA canta TODAS as músicas em uníssono. São sete no palco, nem todos com microfone de voz. Eles não cantam juntos pelo efeito, mas, como definiu um crítico americano, pela simples celebração de estarem vivos e serem jovens.

É o fenômeno Arcade Fire, septeto (!) canadense aos pés do qual prostram-se a crítica, os fãs da cena alternativa e, aparentemente, qualquer pessoa que tenha contato com a música que eles fazem.

"Escuta Aqui" acompanhou o Arcade Fire, ao vivo, na terça-feira passada, no clube Spaceland, em Los Angeles. Como no disco, a sensação é de arrebatamento.

O vocalista Win Butler é a figura central. Tem dois metros de altura e um corte de cabelo assimétrico. Mente para a platéia, como sempre costuma fazer: "É a nossa primeira vez em Los Angeles, estou gostando bem mais do que eu imaginava", diz, apesar de o Arcade Fire já ter tocado antes nos EUA, o que torna pouco provável que nunca tenha ido a LA (ele disse a mesma coisa em um show recente em Nova York e já era a sétima apresentação do grupo na cidade).

Com exceção da violinista (sim, o Arcade Fire tem uma), fixa na posição, todos os outros músicos movimentam-se desesperadamente pelo palco minúsculo, trocando livremente de instrumentos. O também gigantesco Richard Reed Perry (um nerd ruivo de terno, gravata e jeito de quem faz doutorado em astrofísica no MIT) empunha um baixo, depois pega outra guitarra, toca uma caixa de fanfarra, acha um par de baquetas em algum lugar e sai batucando nos dutos de ar que passam logo acima do palco, na parede, nos monitores de retorno.

Os músicos se abraçam durante as canções, às vezes dão tapas uns nos outros. O clima de caos festivo só diminui um pouco quando os vocais são assumidos pela também acordeonista (sim, o Arcade Fire tem uma) Regine Chassagne, que mostra timbre e trejeitos muito semelhantes aos de Björk.

Se o palco não fosse tão pequeno, a impressão é a de que todos os cerca de 250 presentes se juntariam aos músicos numa festa incontida, que deixaria ainda mais distantes o frio e a chuva lá de fora.

Ah, as letras falam, basicamente, de morte. E o disco se chama "Funeral".

Now, in English:

Face to Face with a Phenomenon
Álvaro Pereira Júnior

In the first half hour of the show, the entire band sings with all members in unison. There are seven on the stage, and not everyone has a microphone. They don't sing together for effect, but, as an American critic observed, for the simple celebration of being young and alive.

It is the phenomenon of the Arcade Fire, a Canadian septet (!) at whose feet are prostrated critics, fans of the alternative scene, and, apparently, whichever people have had contact with the music that they make.

"Escuta Aqui" [this column] accompanied the Arcade Fire live last Tuesday at the Spaceland club in Los Angeles. As on their disc, the sensation is of rapture.

The vocalist Win Butler is the central figure. He is two meters tall and has an asymmetric haircut. Speaking to the audience, as he is always accustomed to doing: "This is our first time in Los Angeles, and I'm liking it better than I thought I would," he says, despite the fact that the Arcade Fire has already toured the US, and that it's quite unlikely he has never been to LA (he said the same thing at a recent show in New York and that was already the band's seventh show in the city).

With the exception of the violinist (yes, the Arcade Fire has one), fixed in position, all the other musicians moved themselves unexpectedly around the miniscule stage, trading instruments freely. The also gigantic Richard Reed Perry (an auburn-haired nerd in a suit and tie, with the mannerisms of someone who has a doctorate in astrophysics from MIT) plays the bass, afterwards grabs another guitar, plays a box of fanfare [???], finds a pair of footstools someplace and begins to beat on the air ducts that pass over the stage, on the walls, and on the monitors.

The musicians hug each other during the songs, and sometimes give each other high-fives. The climate of festive chaos only diminishes a little when the vocals are assumed by the accordionist (yes, the Arcade Fire has one) Regine Chassagne, who demonstrates a timbre and facial expression very similar to those of Bjork.

If the stage had not been so small, the impression would have been, to the roughly 250 present, that they could join with the musicians in an unrestrained party, that would leave the cold and rain outside still more distant.

Ah, the lyrics speak, basically, of death. And the disc is called "Funeral".