Paul said we see through a glass, darkly. Reflektor grapples with the hazy and distorted image coming back, lyrically and musically exploring themes of death, obfuscation, and modernity. Of course, when a rock band is as earnest as Arcade Fire, there is bound to be backlash. Some critics have maligned their overzealousness or asexuality. So you want detached irony? Pavement broke up fifteen years ago. You want sexual energy? The (faux) prowess of Kings of Leon will do just fine. Arcade Fire is still a band for serious-thinking people, and if you would rather drink and score, go listen to Jet.
Sure, Reflektor may not share the same heft as The Suburb's holistic and epic post-suburban narrative. And the record may not share the same heart-ripping urgency of Funeral. But the band is too good to ever get comfortable, and Reflektor takes real risks, resulting in numerous righteous-sounding and forward-thinking tracks. It is the sound of a band charging at the vanguard and brimming with unusual and vivid ideas. Most of the tracks throb with an insular and weird danceable energy, the cavernous bass lines pounding deep and mysterious throughout the record's entirety.
The opening title track is one of the year's great dance-rock tracks, introducing bongos and Bowie into the band's canon. In Kierkegaard's The Present Age, he discusses the "reflective age," a troubling self-absorption at the expense of passionate action. In our age of digital narcissism, the Danish philosopher's words ring through the years when Win Butler sings it is all "just a reflection of a reflection of a reflection." And it is a perilous proposition "to fall in love, on a stage, in a reflective age," especially when being viewed through a camera lens, or worse, being terrorized by heads buried in phones.
"We Exist" follows with an anthemic rebuttal that would have easily fit on Neon Bible. Then things get even more interesting with the next four songs on Side One, as the band demonstrates their ability to thread together wild and disparate moments. "Flashbulb Eyes" is a scuzzy island jam, a twisted Haitian voodoo club mix, while "Here Comes the Night Time" moves clubgoers even further toward doom, hailing the impending twilight with dread-filled bass and steel drums. "Normal Person" blisters the dispassionate conformist with Dinosaur Jr.-style riffs and "You Already Know" lights up a weirded-out sock hop. This is not the usual fare that reaches #1 on the Billboard charts.
The record's themes climax with Side Two's triumvirate of "It's Never Over (Hey Orpheus)," "Afterlife," and "Supersymmetry." The album's cover art features Rodin's sculpture Orpheus and Eurydice, and their tragic love is emblematic of our terrible parting. We stood beside a frozen sea / I saw you out in front of me / Reflected light / A hollow moon / Oh Orpheus, Eurydice / It's over too soon.
On "Afterlife," Butler resists death and tries to pierce the veil, but it proves to be the darkest glass.
Afterlife, I think I saw what happens next
It was just a glimpse of you, like looking through a window
Or a shallow sea
Could you see me?
If peace is to follow between now and then, perhaps it is part of some larger design, which is hinted at by the gentle pulse of closer "Supersymmetry." But even then, the sting of death is omnipresent: I know you're living in my mind / It's not the same as being alive.
We want connection in our fractured world, that divine spark to manifest itself, but the smoke-filled skies are deeply disconcerting. Reflektor holds a mirror up to our modern age (the preachers! the technology! the disconnection!) and the image is frightening. Are we connecting to the real thing? Are we connecting to each other? And will we ever see our loved ones again? Sometimes Arcade Fire's troubled agnosticism reveals an underlying desire to believe, and it is possible the band uses their songs to combat the riddling fear, hoping to ward off the inevitable. But even if the stars simply wink out, make no mistake: Arcade Fire will be playing well into the darkness.
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