Beirut's third album feels like an old friend. Earthy, well-worn, and honest, The Rip Tide sheds some of the sonic clutter from Nathan Condon's previous efforts but still sounds loose and improvisational. In terms of companionship, consider this music Sancho Panza, unfailingly finding ways to lift you up with stories and good humor despite an overarching pain of longing. Indeed, the record could be the soundtrack to the indie version of Don Quixote.
Condon hails from Santa Fe, and where his earlier albums explored Balkan and other European fare largely gleaned from his travels, The Rip Tide carries him closer to home, sounding like a record forged in the American Southwest. The horn arrangements are a canvas-expanding backdrop for what are certainly Condon's most melodic collection of songs. The songs evoke history, deserts, and lost loves, a search across the broad panorama of rock and sky that dominates the landscape.
"Sante Fe" is a call home accompanied by stuttering keyboards and soul-warming trumpets (Sign me up Santa Fe / And call your son). "Vagabond" is the desperate return, albeit sun-bleached and hopeful (Left the vagabonds / a trail of stones / forward to find my home). But will there only be endless drifting? On the album's gorgeous title-track, Condon contemplates as much. (So the waves and I found the rip tide). Yet somehow, amid the wanderlust, Condon makes all of the right connections.
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