Given Arcade Fire's stature these days, it's hard to believe they have just four albums currently to their name. That will change come Friday (July 28) when the band release their fifth album, conceptual epic Everything Now, but before we get into the band's latest, we wanted to look back on the band's considerable catalogue: their albums, their EPs, their B-sides and one-offs.
So, we did just that: Five Exclaim! staffers took every single recorded Arcade Fire song to date — no remixes, no demos, no covers, no unrecorded songs and, since it's too early still, none of the Everything Now singles released so far — and ranked them, from worst to best.
Some of the results were surprising, some weren't (Spoiler: Funeral still rips!), but you can decide that for yourself by reading, below, about Every Arcade Fire Song, Ranked from Worst to Best.
70. "Flashbulb Eyes"
An Arcade Fire song that makes you want to pull the plug on your eyes and your ears!
Sarah Murphy
69. "Women of a Certain Age"
This slapdash throwaway from The Reflektor Tapes EP aims for poignancy but ends up coming across as playfully sexist. Yikes.
Matthew Ritchie
68. "Apocrypha"
An attempt to spice up this plodding folk jam with a 9/8 time signature only added another beat of mediocrity per measure.
Matt Bobkin
67. "Surf City Eastern Bloc"
"Surf City Eastern Bloc" is shoddily recorded, and the song sounds held together by duct tape. This one's for diehards only.
Stephen Carlick
66. Reflektor Hidden Track
The ten-minute Reflektor "Hidden Track" contains snippets of "Reflektor" and other bits of music, all played backwards. Neat, but mostly a novelty.
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65. "I'm Sleeping in a Submarine"
An early example of Win and Régine writing from a child's perspective. They'd get better at it.
Ian Gormely
64. "Vampire/Forest Fire"
Both the folksy first half and roaring climax overstay their welcome, but also show signs of the band's emotive promise.
MB
63. "My Heart Is an Apple"
A plodding number with a silly conceit; an exhausted Win is "full" from eating his lover's heart.
IG
62. "Broken Window"
"Keep the Car Running" B-side "Broken Window" isn't memorable enough to be an album cut, but it builds enough momentum to carry the listener to its end.
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61. "Crucified Again"
I don't want to say anything mean about a song written in the wake of the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, but damn, this song is boring.
SM
60. "Half Light I"
A glorified intro for "Half Light II," even the sweeping finale of "Half Light I" doesn't give it its own identity.
MB
59. "Culture War"
The Suburbs' bonus track features uncharacteristically twangy guitars beneath incessant pondering on the cultural decimation in the modern era. We get it, Win.
SM
58. "Here Comes the Night Time II"
Although less buoyant than its predecessor, this three-minute downtempo track kicks off Reflektor's second disc with cinematic flourish.
MR
57. "Headlights Look Like Diamonds"
"Headlights Look Like Diamonds" sounds a lot like Broken Social Scene, which makes sense — on their 2003 debut EP, Arcade Fire were still honing their influences into a cohesive sound.
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56. "Sprawl I (Flatland)"
This three-minute, sombre segue into The Suburbs standout "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" is a nice amuse-bouche for the bombast to come.
MR
55. "The Woodland National Anthem"
Evoking childlike whimsy with children's instrumentation was all the rage in the mid-aughts. This charming twee number was Arcade Fire's contribution.
IG
54. "Soft Power"
Off The Reflektor Tapes EP, "Soft Power" will likely lull you into a deep sleep filled with dystopian dreams; the psychedelia doesn't mask the overwhelming hopelessness for humanity.
SM
53. "Normal Person"
Contrary to Win Butler's claim at the start, this Reflektor track will restore anyone's faith in rock thanks to its scorching guitar.
MR
52. "Half Light II (No Celebration)"
It doesn't have quite the same melodic hook as the more celebrated Suburbs cut "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)," but "Half Light II (No Celebration)" is a similarly atmospheric, affecting song.
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51. "Joan of Arc"
Rejecting being a big rock band in song is a common trope. Few of those songs are good, fewer are danceable. This is both.
IG
50. "You Already Know"
Many Arcade Fire tracks start off slower before building to their inevitable, tension-releasing climax, but rare jangle-pop foray "You Already Know" starts stockpiling its spidery guitar licks from the get-go for a pleasant listen. Plus, there's still enough room in there for another one of those trademark builds.
MB
49. "Get Right"
The blues riff that anchors this Reflektor outtake makes for a fine slab of middle-of-the-road White Stripes/Black Keys rip-off rock. What elevates "Get Right" is its extended coda, when the guitar drops out and the synths take over the heavy lifting. Shame they couldn't quite figure out how to end it.
IG
48. "Modern Man"
Janky rhythms, the unshakable feeling of a ticking clock and repeated refrains of "Something don't feel right" channel the band's growing existential dread on "Modern Man," amplified by its placement within the Stepford-like setting of The Suburbs. Things may not be looking too great for 21st century folks in the 'burbs, but we'll be damned if you don't catch yourself tapping your toes along to this one.
SM
47. "Old Flame"
The opening track from the band's debut EP introduces listeners to a wilier, more rough-around-the-edges Win Butler, whose audible snarl drives the track. It's a reminder of a more rocking path that Arcade Fire could have taken — though, true to form, they give the lead in the bridge to synth instead of guitar.
MB
46. "The Suburbs (Continued)"
Arcade Fire have spoken openly about their love of Radiohead, whose "Morning Bell" (which first appeared on 2000's Kid A, only to be revisited a year later on Amnesiac) seems like a clear influence, at least conceptually, on this short, mournful and sparse reworking of The Suburbs' title track.
MR
45. "Deep Blue"
Arcade Fire's full-scale campaign against technological dependence began in earnest on Reflektor, but it has precedent. Chanting "Hey! Put the cellphone down for a while" may be a bit on-the-nose, but invoking the titular champ-defeating chess robot conveys the music's slow-burning dread, a real-time realization that we may have built our own demise.
MB
44. "Supersymmetry"
It's unfortunate one has to wait until the end of Reflektor's bloated 120 minutes to get to it, but "Supersymmetry" is a gorgeous closer, a masterclass in wringing beauty from subtlety on a record that could have used a little more of it.
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43. "Empty Room"
"Empty Room" is a great barnstormer of a song, but you haven't fully experienced it until you've seen Arcade Fire accompanists Sarah Neufeld and Owen Pallett shredding their violins onstage leading it. Plus, the way the chorus explodes open on the word "by" as Régine sings, "When I'm by myself, I can be myself"? *Chef's kiss*
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42. "Speaking in Tongues"
If the multiple covers weren't enough, Arcade Fire proudly display their admiration for Talking Heads by teaming up with frontman David Byrne — on a track that shares a name with a Heads LP, no less. Winding and paranoid, the track is at its best when Byrne's influence and contributions are most obvious.
MB
41. "Wasted Hours"
A calm palette cleanser after the raucous "Month of May," Win Butler sings about "summers staring out the window" in this often-overlooked song that's a slightly wistful look at suburban life. It's pretty cookie cutter musically, but the girl group vocal accompaniment helps elevate it.
MR
40. "I Give You Power"
Released on the eve of Donald Trump's inauguration, "I Give You Power" is a pulsating dystopian dance track that serves as an unfriendly reminder to those in prominent political positions that their power isn't infinite. A timely protest to be sure, but it's unfortunate that iconic civil rights activist Mavis Staples is wasted on lyrics that never really extend beyond "I give you power / I can take it away."
SM
39. "Abraham's Daughter"
"Abraham's Daughter," from the "official companion album" to the original Hunger Games film, is one of Arcade Fire's better one-offs. Régine Chassagne leads a series of contrapuntal vocal lines that harmonize with and echo each other over a marching snare and thrumming bass, simply but effectively reflecting the film's dark themes.
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38. "Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice)"
Much was made over the introduction of several Haitian auxiliary percussionists to the group on Reflektor, and "Awful Sound" marks one of their best moments, as the steady backbone of this dream-like, swaying beacon of hope through persecution. Plus, the interplay between Win and Régine is brief but powerful.
MB
37. "Porno"
The splashy synths and provocative title lead many to wrongly assume this Reflektor track is the band's attempt at being sexy, but the lyrics tell a different story: one about relationships, love, modern technology and the male gaze. It's one of the deeper and more direct moments on an album that's often hard to unpack.
MR
36. "Rococo"
The Holden Caulfield of all Arcade Fire songs, "Rococo" finds Win Butler singing the words of an egotistical and elitist outcast on a trip downtown to gawk at the cool kids, yet seems to be making fun of both in the process. Teenage art school angst has never been encapsulated so exquisitely.
MR
35. "It's Never Over (Oh Orpheus)"
Arcade Fire recruited DFA studio wizard/arranger James Murphy for their fourth studio album, and his influence — from the thumping bass lines, arena rock disco beats and LCD Soundsystem-style canned hi-hat action — is all over this one, what with its dance floor-ready rhythms and anthemic indie rock introspection.
MR
34. "Neon Bible"
A commentary on the contradictions of a modern, technologically minded society and out-dated pillars of institutional religion, Neon Bible's title track is rather short and simple, but intrinsic to shaping the album's overwhelming feeling of bleakness and total lack of faith in humanity.
SM
33. "In the Backseat"
The fragile, gorgeous Funeral closer puts Régine Chassagne's poignant upper register on full display. As the closer for an album about seeking refuge from life's maladies in the power of community, "In the Backseat" explores the underside with its simple, moving message about finding peace in passivity. Rarely has anxious inaction sounded so poetic.
MB
32. "Here Comes the Night Time"
"Here Comes the Night Time" isn't the first time Régine Chassagne's Haitian roots have inspired the band (see below), but it's perhaps the most direct line between her provenance and the island's rich musical history. Arcade Fire skirted with cultural appropriation in both the material and promotion of Reflektor, but at least here managed to thread a very delicate needle.
IG
31. "Haiti"
"Haiti" was the first time Chassagne directly addressed her Haitian heritage on record, and what better place for it than on an album about mortality and family? A paean to a land she never knew, "Haiti" details the turmoil that enveloped the island and her parents, ultimately provoking their decision to leave.
IG
30. "City With No Children"
If Funeral is Arcade Fire's orchestral album and Neon Bible is organ-centric, The Suburbs was the record on which the band really embraced both guitars and more back-to-basics instrumentation. "City With No Children," an easy highlight, has a riff that sounds like a car engine revving, simple handclap percussion and a short, yearning chorus — it's quality songcraft boiled down to just a few key ingredients.
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29. "(Antichrist Television Blues)"
Apparently inspired by the early 2000s pop culture goldmine that was the Simpson family — Jessica and Ashlee's, that is — "(Antichrist Television Blues)" exposes the song's "God-fearing" lead man as an exploitative, money-hungry monster. It's a stomach-churning narrative that's brilliantly at odds with its euphoric, upbeat sound.
SM
28. "Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)"
The fourth and final instalment of the "Neighborhood" saga, "Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)" is lullaby-like in its softness, though the lyrics hint at something much darker. Clichés about patience and hope are dismantled and replaced by bleak observations like: "They say a watched pot won't ever boil / You can't raise a baby on motor oil."
SM
27. "Month of May"
"Month of May" hears Arcade Fire ditching their signature slow-build song structure and flying out of the gates full-force. Crunchy electric guitars and pummelling drums drive the track into the band's most aggressive territory to date, though the subject matter lightens things up; it's a record about making a record — and it totally rules.
SM
26. "Cold Wind"
The deceptively bleak "Cold Wind" fits in far better on its Six Feet Under soundtrack home than any of the band's LPs — thanks to Win Butler's haunting, verge-of-death delivery, there's no peace to be found here. A brief mid-song moment of triumph makes the dissonant ending all the more unsettling.
MB
25. "We Exist"
Described by Win Butler as a song about a gay boy coming out to his straight father, "We Exist" is one of the most powerful songs in Arcade Fire's catalogue, a universal anthem that can be applied to any group facing human rights issues. (It's a banging disco song, too.)
MR
24. "Black Wave / Bad Vibrations"
Régine Chassagne and Win Butler trade vocal duties in this darkly tinged, evolving bilingual number that perfectly sets the tone for the rest of Neon Bible with its baroque post-punk textures and bizarre, haunting orchestral bells. This is the song the Beach Boys would have written if they ever went goth.
MR
23. "Windowsill"
There are times when Win Butler can be a little on-the-nose with his lyrics. But his directness works perfectly here, singing lines like "Don't wanna fight in a holy war / Don't want the salesmen knocking at my door," summing up America's post 9/11 problems nicely.
MR
22. "Lenin"
Leave it to Arcade Fire to write a song about one of the great modern historical figures and focus on his childhood. This Neon Bible-era one-off track surfaced on Dark Was the Night, a Red Hot Organization compilation put together by the National's Aaron and Bryce Dessner.
IG
21. "Une année sans lumiere"
"Une année sans lumiere" would still be a great song if it just continued as it starts (beautifully, and with palpable feeling), but like so many of Funeral's best songs, it benefits from a thrilling climax — here, at the 2:45 mark, when the tempo revs up significantly and a tambourine/snare combo bring the song galloping to its cymbal-crash end.
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20. "The Well and the Lighthouse"
One of the few songs on Neon Bible to maintain Funeral's brisk pace, if not its chaotic sound, "The Well and the Lighthouse" is minimalist by comparison, and like many of Arcade Fire's songs, it eschews a simple verse-chorus-verse structure. In fact, it lacks both a chorus and a bridge. Instead, its first half is a sprint before it comes crashing down into a half-time denouement. So it's to the band's credit that they manage to keep our attention with a narrative that features a protagonist whose decisions have left him in ruin. His plight draws us in and keeps us coming back for more.
IG
19. "Suburban War"
The haunted counterpoint to the sepia-toned wistfulness of "The Suburbs," "Suburban War" examines the role of loss in longing, the innate character of a neighbourhood that a simple visit can't recapture. Foregoing the band's staple orchestral swells to hammer home the raw emotion, the chilly narrative here about growing distant is infinitely relatable, pulling no punches on delivering one of life's harsh truths for an uncharacteristically bleak listen. Arcade Fire are at their best when breaking everything down to pull it back together, but "Suburban War" leaves things in shambles — and therein lies the song's power.
MB
18. "Intervention"
The ominous opening organ chords of "Intervention" are quickly buoyed by strums of acoustic guitar and twinkles of xylophonic percussion, allowing Butler to lead us through his narrative. He delivers a searing condemnation of militant religious zealots, growing increasingly frustrated as the song builds toward yet another classic Arcade Fire crescendo. Despite allusions to political and religious unrest, the song remains strangely catchy. There's levity to the acoustic guitar and xylophone, while the song's string-propelled melody and easy-to-follow story arc make it nearly impossible not to fully fall under its spell.
SM
17. "Black Mirror"
The opening track of Arcade Fire's sophomore LP, Neon Bible, "Black Mirror" heralded the beginning of the band's widening sonic repertoire. Their knack for haunting imagery remains totally intact here, bombarding us with vast, dark oceanscapes and all other manner of unreflective surfaces and unbreakable curses. Thumping percussion, driving guitars, smashing keys, siren-esque strings and Butler's ever-expressive (and bilingual) vocals meld together into four minutes of sonic suspense. Heart-pounding and exhilarating, "Black Mirror" leaves you frightened and uneasy in the most oddly enjoyable way.
SM
16. "Reflektor"
After winning the Polaris Music Prize for the world-conquering The Suburbs, anticipation for the band's followup was sky-high, and Arcade Fire capitalized on it: Not only was LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy brought in to produce, but the band teased the album with a mysterious international rollout campaign — then dropped the seven-and-a-half-minute "Reflektor," a minimalist disco epic complete with skronking horns and a David Bowie guest spot.
The lyrics are repetitive, sure, but disco tended to lock into a groove and ride it, and the way Régine Chassagne's voice skitters around the top of the mix, over Win Butler's haunted baritone, adds a compelling layer of unease here. It's arguable whether Reflektor delivered as an album, but its sleek, dark title track holds up well.
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15. "Crown of Love"
Funeral's "Crown of Love" is a fine example of Arcade Fire's ability to launch the listener on an emotional rollercoaster. Starting off with a slow and anticipatory build, Butler sounds at his most vulnerable and distressed as he sings of a diminishing love. The physical pains of heartache, the crazy-making angst of uncertainty and desperate pleas for forgiveness here are set to beautifully melancholic strings that steadily climb towards an eruption of drastically quickened instrumentation and strangled shouts. It's not until the song rounds its final corner and begins to slowly fade out that everyone along for the ride finally gets a chance to exhale.
SM
14. "Afterlife"
Channelling their inner ABBA and New Order at the same time, Arcade Fire deliver a song that sounds both familiar yet foreign, nostalgic yet forward-thinking and all-around propulsive with this standout single that helped close out the band's fourth studio album (and most synth-centric). Musically, it's one of Reflektor's more straightforward songs. Lyrically, its musings on the end of a romance and life after death are vague enough to leave its ultimate meaning open for interpretation. You'll be singing along to every word of the chorus, but, like a lot of great songs, its effect likely depends on your own experiences, as well.
MR
13. "Ocean of Noise"
Starting off as an ominously bleak, sparse soundscape with little more than rumbling bass, piano and a tinny drum machine, "Ocean of Noise" slowly and methodically swells and swells — and just when you think it couldn't build any more, the lovely lads of mariachi rockers Calexico join in with their horns for a rapturous conclusion. It's an ending that makes you rethink the entire song, and ends up as a prime example of an early Arcade Fire staple theme: There's hope in unexpected places, and sometimes, if you're lucky, you don't even have to look for it.
MB
12. "We Used to Wait"
There are several parallels to be drawn between The Suburbs and Radiohead's OK Computer, but no song from the former shares the themes of the latter more explicitly than "We Used to Wait." Perhaps remembered best for its location-based music video tie-in with Google Chrome, The Wilderness Downtown, the song nevertheless explores fear of modernity with all the anxiety of a paranoid android. True to their nature though, Arcade Fire imbue that fear with nostalgia for the past via the preciousness of expressing feelings by putting pen to paper. Fittingly, they come across as much happier people than their English counterparts.
IG
11. "Keep the Car Running"
From the opening orchestral swell, it's clear Arcade Fire are gunning for something huge on "Keep the Car Running." But it's Tim Kingsbury's bouncing bass that proves to be its most enduring piece of instrumentation; notice just how empty the song feels when it drops out, leaving just the mandolin to carry the tune. Lyrically, the song reads like an outtake from Darkness on the Edge of Town; something is closing in on the protagonist, and he needs to get out before it gets him. Fittingly, when Win Butler and Régine Chassagne joined Springsteen onstage in Ottawa in 2007, this was one of the two songs the artists played together.
IG
10. "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)"
Though it has its share of chaotic moments, Funeral is, for the most part, a consistently pretty album — which makes the minimalist thrash of "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" stick out. With its talk-sung, sometimes chanted verses, its trashcan percussion and lyrical mystique, "Laika" is one of Arcade Fire's weirder early moments, even if its back half is buoyed by a more straightforward (and lovely) violin line.
Everything in "Laika" feels crucial and passionate, do-or-die in a way that the album's prettier (#1), more imposing (#3) and more sophisticated (#4) neighbourhoods never quite do.
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9. "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)"
The Suburbs' penultimate track is also the greatest showcase the band ever gave Régine Chassagne. Over a pulsing synth line, she sings about the urban-suburban divide as she dreams of moving to the city and leaving the past behind — yet, suburban sprawl and the 9 to 5 grind prove inescapable, leaving no room for the creative life that she yearns for.
Notably, and unlike many Arcade Fire songs, "Sprawl II" features a short bridge, where the song modulates up a few notes before dropping back down into the chorus, giving it the momentum needed to sustain all five-and-a-half glorious minutes of its runtime.
IG
8. "Rebellion (Lies)"
Lots of groups describe themselves as a family or collective, but on this propulsive Funeral highlight and biggest single, Arcade Fire come across like a gang, ready to wake up the neighbourhood with their noise.
That image is exemplified in the song's video, where the band barnstorm through a suburban enclave dressed in matching outfits, pounding out the tune as the neighbourhood kids rise up and join their rebellion. In the eyes of Arcade Fire, adults are the enemy, sleep their weapon — so raise your fist, beat a drum and sing loud in protest.
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7. "The Suburbs"
On "The Suburbs," Arcade Fire imbue life's mundanities with the weight of the world, kicking off the namesake album with a thoroughly youthful tribute to the paradox of growing up, the haphazard teenage oscillation between caring too much and not at all. It's a nostalgia trip to a simpler time, soundtracked by jaunty keyboards and falsetto vocals, wistfulness in musical form.
But where the song transcends is when it deals with the weight of the present: By the time Win Butler opens up about his (since realized) dreams of fatherhood, the tissues are already out.
MB
6. "No Cars Go"
The song so nice Arcade Fire recorded it twice, "No Cars Go" was known, for the band's first few years, as one of the few solid moments on a debut EP that was anything but. They revisited it for Neon Bible, upping the urgency and instrumentation while keeping its symphonic drone of an opening, marching post-punk drum fill, tremolo-picked guitars and powerful melody practically the same.
Husband and wife duo Win Butler and Régine Chassagne have always taken turns at lead vocals, but both take centre stage on this single, which is not only one of the band's most democratic in execution, but also their most ornate.
MR
5. "Ready to Start"
Curiously, "Ready to Start" doesn't lead off The Suburbs, and seems only tangentially related to its themes. It does, however, lay bare the two paths for bands who become successful: reject the establishment and stay true to your roots, or embrace your new platform, effectively starting again with a new audience.
From their earliest recordings, both in form and function, Arcade Fire aligned themselves with the underground. Their success — part of a larger insurrection of indie culture into the mainstream — looked like a betrayal to naysayers. But fame came to the band on their own terms; they remained with Merge and continued to keep things as DIY as a band packing stadiums could.
"Ready to Start" is the band's unapologetic rejoinder to friends and admirers who hold a grudge. They're not going to change; not for the "businessmen who are drinking [their] blood," but not for the "kids in art school," either.
IG
4. "My Body Is a Cage"
An achingly gorgeous ode to anxiety, Neon Bible's "My Body Is a Cage" begins quiet and minimalistic, as Win Butler longs for happiness that his own inner turmoil prevents him from attaining. Even without the vivid imagery of a soul trapped behind bars and disconnected from the rest of the living world conjured by the lyrics, the frontman's sentiment is plainly conveyed by the quaver in his voice.
The barely-there organ, percussion and backing vocals from the beginning of the song eventually swell into a crescendo release of pent-up emotion, matched by the repeated refrains of "Set my spirit free!" and "Set my body free!" that spill out from the darkest depths of Butler's psyche — but provide a glorious moment of catharsis for listeners, as well.
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3. "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)"
If you're old enough that Arcade Fire make you nostalgic, it's likely that Funeral was your first full listening experience with the band — and that the sombre, lonely, twinkling keys of opener "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" were the first sounds you heard.
Before Funeral becomes calamitous, "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" conveys a sense of awakening that sets the scene for the rest of the album, a realization that any sense of isolation is surmountable as long as we reach out. Win Butler doesn't just suggest he'll "dig a tunnel from my window to yours" once, but twice; "Yeah," he repeats," a tunnel."
Dynamic and sweeping, the song's instrumentation ebbs and flows while the tempo, at first tentative, becomes faster, the message more insistent, as it approaches its tremendous climax.
Is there an opening song on a debut album more indicative of what's the come from a band than "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)"? Perhaps. But is it as gut-wrenchingly beautiful as this?
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2. "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)"
Listening to Funeral for the first time is a revelation from its first notes, but it's not until the fourth track, "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)," that one truly gets a sense of the band's sheer power.
Swiftly and suddenly, that opening blast of noise hits like a hurricane; the slamming percussion never ceases, underscoring the central theme of the song — optimism — with a ragged ferocity that the band would never quite summon again.
Though Win Butler is wailing that "I woke up with the power out," he readily admits in just the next line that it's "not really something to shout about." The ruckus here is about something bigger, something only a band in their youth could care this much about: The tragedy of allowing one's light to go out, be smothered or hidden. Butler's command is simple: "Take it from your heart and put it in your hand!"
Arcade Fire would touch on this theme again throughout their later catalogue, but never this stirringly.
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1. "Wake Up"
Beneath the technophobia, religion-induced dystopia and papier-mâché heads, one image reigns supreme in the sprawling mythology of Arcade Fire: That of cramming as many friends and collaborators on stage at once to exist together in cacophonic quasi-unison. It's that image that gives us "Wake Up," the group's most emblematic work, in which innumerable band mates shout together, mouths and hearts wide open in a ragged bellow set to the metallic chug of a monolithic chord on guitar.
The centrepiece of a record forged from a series of deaths in band mates' families, "Wake Up" is a pleading message to both appreciate life's ups and understand its downs. But as the band have transitioned into screen-shuttering spokespeople — as dutifully conveyed in every aspect of their recent work, from song to video to social media presence — there's something to be said for the universality of the sentiment in "Wake Up." Here, there's no pretence, no judgment — just space to embrace your failures, insecurities and obstacles, to vent your frustrations with whomever else is out there.
And then, the storm passes, the tempo speeds up and life proceeds as normal again. "Wake Up" knocks the wind out of you and then gets you back up on your feet — again and again, as in life.
MB
Dig into Arcade Fire's back catalogue via Umusic.
So, we did just that: Five Exclaim! staffers took every single recorded Arcade Fire song to date — no remixes, no demos, no covers, no unrecorded songs and, since it's too early still, none of the Everything Now singles released so far — and ranked them, from worst to best.
Some of the results were surprising, some weren't (Spoiler: Funeral still rips!), but you can decide that for yourself by reading, below, about Every Arcade Fire Song, Ranked from Worst to Best.
70. "Flashbulb Eyes"
An Arcade Fire song that makes you want to pull the plug on your eyes and your ears!
Sarah Murphy
69. "Women of a Certain Age"
This slapdash throwaway from The Reflektor Tapes EP aims for poignancy but ends up coming across as playfully sexist. Yikes.
Matthew Ritchie
68. "Apocrypha"
An attempt to spice up this plodding folk jam with a 9/8 time signature only added another beat of mediocrity per measure.
Matt Bobkin
67. "Surf City Eastern Bloc"
"Surf City Eastern Bloc" is shoddily recorded, and the song sounds held together by duct tape. This one's for diehards only.
Stephen Carlick
66. Reflektor Hidden Track
The ten-minute Reflektor "Hidden Track" contains snippets of "Reflektor" and other bits of music, all played backwards. Neat, but mostly a novelty.
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65. "I'm Sleeping in a Submarine"
An early example of Win and Régine writing from a child's perspective. They'd get better at it.
Ian Gormely
64. "Vampire/Forest Fire"
Both the folksy first half and roaring climax overstay their welcome, but also show signs of the band's emotive promise.
MB
63. "My Heart Is an Apple"
A plodding number with a silly conceit; an exhausted Win is "full" from eating his lover's heart.
IG
62. "Broken Window"
"Keep the Car Running" B-side "Broken Window" isn't memorable enough to be an album cut, but it builds enough momentum to carry the listener to its end.
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61. "Crucified Again"
I don't want to say anything mean about a song written in the wake of the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, but damn, this song is boring.
SM
60. "Half Light I"
A glorified intro for "Half Light II," even the sweeping finale of "Half Light I" doesn't give it its own identity.
MB
59. "Culture War"
The Suburbs' bonus track features uncharacteristically twangy guitars beneath incessant pondering on the cultural decimation in the modern era. We get it, Win.
SM
58. "Here Comes the Night Time II"
Although less buoyant than its predecessor, this three-minute downtempo track kicks off Reflektor's second disc with cinematic flourish.
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57. "Headlights Look Like Diamonds"
"Headlights Look Like Diamonds" sounds a lot like Broken Social Scene, which makes sense — on their 2003 debut EP, Arcade Fire were still honing their influences into a cohesive sound.
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56. "Sprawl I (Flatland)"
This three-minute, sombre segue into The Suburbs standout "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" is a nice amuse-bouche for the bombast to come.
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55. "The Woodland National Anthem"
Evoking childlike whimsy with children's instrumentation was all the rage in the mid-aughts. This charming twee number was Arcade Fire's contribution.
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54. "Soft Power"
Off The Reflektor Tapes EP, "Soft Power" will likely lull you into a deep sleep filled with dystopian dreams; the psychedelia doesn't mask the overwhelming hopelessness for humanity.
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53. "Normal Person"
Contrary to Win Butler's claim at the start, this Reflektor track will restore anyone's faith in rock thanks to its scorching guitar.
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52. "Half Light II (No Celebration)"
It doesn't have quite the same melodic hook as the more celebrated Suburbs cut "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)," but "Half Light II (No Celebration)" is a similarly atmospheric, affecting song.
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51. "Joan of Arc"
Rejecting being a big rock band in song is a common trope. Few of those songs are good, fewer are danceable. This is both.
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50. "You Already Know"
Many Arcade Fire tracks start off slower before building to their inevitable, tension-releasing climax, but rare jangle-pop foray "You Already Know" starts stockpiling its spidery guitar licks from the get-go for a pleasant listen. Plus, there's still enough room in there for another one of those trademark builds.
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49. "Get Right"
The blues riff that anchors this Reflektor outtake makes for a fine slab of middle-of-the-road White Stripes/Black Keys rip-off rock. What elevates "Get Right" is its extended coda, when the guitar drops out and the synths take over the heavy lifting. Shame they couldn't quite figure out how to end it.
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48. "Modern Man"
Janky rhythms, the unshakable feeling of a ticking clock and repeated refrains of "Something don't feel right" channel the band's growing existential dread on "Modern Man," amplified by its placement within the Stepford-like setting of The Suburbs. Things may not be looking too great for 21st century folks in the 'burbs, but we'll be damned if you don't catch yourself tapping your toes along to this one.
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47. "Old Flame"
The opening track from the band's debut EP introduces listeners to a wilier, more rough-around-the-edges Win Butler, whose audible snarl drives the track. It's a reminder of a more rocking path that Arcade Fire could have taken — though, true to form, they give the lead in the bridge to synth instead of guitar.
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46. "The Suburbs (Continued)"
Arcade Fire have spoken openly about their love of Radiohead, whose "Morning Bell" (which first appeared on 2000's Kid A, only to be revisited a year later on Amnesiac) seems like a clear influence, at least conceptually, on this short, mournful and sparse reworking of The Suburbs' title track.
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45. "Deep Blue"
Arcade Fire's full-scale campaign against technological dependence began in earnest on Reflektor, but it has precedent. Chanting "Hey! Put the cellphone down for a while" may be a bit on-the-nose, but invoking the titular champ-defeating chess robot conveys the music's slow-burning dread, a real-time realization that we may have built our own demise.
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44. "Supersymmetry"
It's unfortunate one has to wait until the end of Reflektor's bloated 120 minutes to get to it, but "Supersymmetry" is a gorgeous closer, a masterclass in wringing beauty from subtlety on a record that could have used a little more of it.
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43. "Empty Room"
"Empty Room" is a great barnstormer of a song, but you haven't fully experienced it until you've seen Arcade Fire accompanists Sarah Neufeld and Owen Pallett shredding their violins onstage leading it. Plus, the way the chorus explodes open on the word "by" as Régine sings, "When I'm by myself, I can be myself"? *Chef's kiss*
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42. "Speaking in Tongues"
If the multiple covers weren't enough, Arcade Fire proudly display their admiration for Talking Heads by teaming up with frontman David Byrne — on a track that shares a name with a Heads LP, no less. Winding and paranoid, the track is at its best when Byrne's influence and contributions are most obvious.
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41. "Wasted Hours"
A calm palette cleanser after the raucous "Month of May," Win Butler sings about "summers staring out the window" in this often-overlooked song that's a slightly wistful look at suburban life. It's pretty cookie cutter musically, but the girl group vocal accompaniment helps elevate it.
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40. "I Give You Power"
Released on the eve of Donald Trump's inauguration, "I Give You Power" is a pulsating dystopian dance track that serves as an unfriendly reminder to those in prominent political positions that their power isn't infinite. A timely protest to be sure, but it's unfortunate that iconic civil rights activist Mavis Staples is wasted on lyrics that never really extend beyond "I give you power / I can take it away."
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39. "Abraham's Daughter"
"Abraham's Daughter," from the "official companion album" to the original Hunger Games film, is one of Arcade Fire's better one-offs. Régine Chassagne leads a series of contrapuntal vocal lines that harmonize with and echo each other over a marching snare and thrumming bass, simply but effectively reflecting the film's dark themes.
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38. "Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice)"
Much was made over the introduction of several Haitian auxiliary percussionists to the group on Reflektor, and "Awful Sound" marks one of their best moments, as the steady backbone of this dream-like, swaying beacon of hope through persecution. Plus, the interplay between Win and Régine is brief but powerful.
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37. "Porno"
The splashy synths and provocative title lead many to wrongly assume this Reflektor track is the band's attempt at being sexy, but the lyrics tell a different story: one about relationships, love, modern technology and the male gaze. It's one of the deeper and more direct moments on an album that's often hard to unpack.
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36. "Rococo"
The Holden Caulfield of all Arcade Fire songs, "Rococo" finds Win Butler singing the words of an egotistical and elitist outcast on a trip downtown to gawk at the cool kids, yet seems to be making fun of both in the process. Teenage art school angst has never been encapsulated so exquisitely.
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35. "It's Never Over (Oh Orpheus)"
Arcade Fire recruited DFA studio wizard/arranger James Murphy for their fourth studio album, and his influence — from the thumping bass lines, arena rock disco beats and LCD Soundsystem-style canned hi-hat action — is all over this one, what with its dance floor-ready rhythms and anthemic indie rock introspection.
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34. "Neon Bible"
A commentary on the contradictions of a modern, technologically minded society and out-dated pillars of institutional religion, Neon Bible's title track is rather short and simple, but intrinsic to shaping the album's overwhelming feeling of bleakness and total lack of faith in humanity.
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33. "In the Backseat"
The fragile, gorgeous Funeral closer puts Régine Chassagne's poignant upper register on full display. As the closer for an album about seeking refuge from life's maladies in the power of community, "In the Backseat" explores the underside with its simple, moving message about finding peace in passivity. Rarely has anxious inaction sounded so poetic.
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32. "Here Comes the Night Time"
"Here Comes the Night Time" isn't the first time Régine Chassagne's Haitian roots have inspired the band (see below), but it's perhaps the most direct line between her provenance and the island's rich musical history. Arcade Fire skirted with cultural appropriation in both the material and promotion of Reflektor, but at least here managed to thread a very delicate needle.
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31. "Haiti"
"Haiti" was the first time Chassagne directly addressed her Haitian heritage on record, and what better place for it than on an album about mortality and family? A paean to a land she never knew, "Haiti" details the turmoil that enveloped the island and her parents, ultimately provoking their decision to leave.
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30. "City With No Children"
If Funeral is Arcade Fire's orchestral album and Neon Bible is organ-centric, The Suburbs was the record on which the band really embraced both guitars and more back-to-basics instrumentation. "City With No Children," an easy highlight, has a riff that sounds like a car engine revving, simple handclap percussion and a short, yearning chorus — it's quality songcraft boiled down to just a few key ingredients.
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29. "(Antichrist Television Blues)"
Apparently inspired by the early 2000s pop culture goldmine that was the Simpson family — Jessica and Ashlee's, that is — "(Antichrist Television Blues)" exposes the song's "God-fearing" lead man as an exploitative, money-hungry monster. It's a stomach-churning narrative that's brilliantly at odds with its euphoric, upbeat sound.
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28. "Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)"
The fourth and final instalment of the "Neighborhood" saga, "Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)" is lullaby-like in its softness, though the lyrics hint at something much darker. Clichés about patience and hope are dismantled and replaced by bleak observations like: "They say a watched pot won't ever boil / You can't raise a baby on motor oil."
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27. "Month of May"
"Month of May" hears Arcade Fire ditching their signature slow-build song structure and flying out of the gates full-force. Crunchy electric guitars and pummelling drums drive the track into the band's most aggressive territory to date, though the subject matter lightens things up; it's a record about making a record — and it totally rules.
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26. "Cold Wind"
The deceptively bleak "Cold Wind" fits in far better on its Six Feet Under soundtrack home than any of the band's LPs — thanks to Win Butler's haunting, verge-of-death delivery, there's no peace to be found here. A brief mid-song moment of triumph makes the dissonant ending all the more unsettling.
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25. "We Exist"
Described by Win Butler as a song about a gay boy coming out to his straight father, "We Exist" is one of the most powerful songs in Arcade Fire's catalogue, a universal anthem that can be applied to any group facing human rights issues. (It's a banging disco song, too.)
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24. "Black Wave / Bad Vibrations"
Régine Chassagne and Win Butler trade vocal duties in this darkly tinged, evolving bilingual number that perfectly sets the tone for the rest of Neon Bible with its baroque post-punk textures and bizarre, haunting orchestral bells. This is the song the Beach Boys would have written if they ever went goth.
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23. "Windowsill"
There are times when Win Butler can be a little on-the-nose with his lyrics. But his directness works perfectly here, singing lines like "Don't wanna fight in a holy war / Don't want the salesmen knocking at my door," summing up America's post 9/11 problems nicely.
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22. "Lenin"
Leave it to Arcade Fire to write a song about one of the great modern historical figures and focus on his childhood. This Neon Bible-era one-off track surfaced on Dark Was the Night, a Red Hot Organization compilation put together by the National's Aaron and Bryce Dessner.
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21. "Une année sans lumiere"
"Une année sans lumiere" would still be a great song if it just continued as it starts (beautifully, and with palpable feeling), but like so many of Funeral's best songs, it benefits from a thrilling climax — here, at the 2:45 mark, when the tempo revs up significantly and a tambourine/snare combo bring the song galloping to its cymbal-crash end.
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20. "The Well and the Lighthouse"
One of the few songs on Neon Bible to maintain Funeral's brisk pace, if not its chaotic sound, "The Well and the Lighthouse" is minimalist by comparison, and like many of Arcade Fire's songs, it eschews a simple verse-chorus-verse structure. In fact, it lacks both a chorus and a bridge. Instead, its first half is a sprint before it comes crashing down into a half-time denouement. So it's to the band's credit that they manage to keep our attention with a narrative that features a protagonist whose decisions have left him in ruin. His plight draws us in and keeps us coming back for more.
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19. "Suburban War"
The haunted counterpoint to the sepia-toned wistfulness of "The Suburbs," "Suburban War" examines the role of loss in longing, the innate character of a neighbourhood that a simple visit can't recapture. Foregoing the band's staple orchestral swells to hammer home the raw emotion, the chilly narrative here about growing distant is infinitely relatable, pulling no punches on delivering one of life's harsh truths for an uncharacteristically bleak listen. Arcade Fire are at their best when breaking everything down to pull it back together, but "Suburban War" leaves things in shambles — and therein lies the song's power.
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18. "Intervention"
The ominous opening organ chords of "Intervention" are quickly buoyed by strums of acoustic guitar and twinkles of xylophonic percussion, allowing Butler to lead us through his narrative. He delivers a searing condemnation of militant religious zealots, growing increasingly frustrated as the song builds toward yet another classic Arcade Fire crescendo. Despite allusions to political and religious unrest, the song remains strangely catchy. There's levity to the acoustic guitar and xylophone, while the song's string-propelled melody and easy-to-follow story arc make it nearly impossible not to fully fall under its spell.
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17. "Black Mirror"
The opening track of Arcade Fire's sophomore LP, Neon Bible, "Black Mirror" heralded the beginning of the band's widening sonic repertoire. Their knack for haunting imagery remains totally intact here, bombarding us with vast, dark oceanscapes and all other manner of unreflective surfaces and unbreakable curses. Thumping percussion, driving guitars, smashing keys, siren-esque strings and Butler's ever-expressive (and bilingual) vocals meld together into four minutes of sonic suspense. Heart-pounding and exhilarating, "Black Mirror" leaves you frightened and uneasy in the most oddly enjoyable way.
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16. "Reflektor"
After winning the Polaris Music Prize for the world-conquering The Suburbs, anticipation for the band's followup was sky-high, and Arcade Fire capitalized on it: Not only was LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy brought in to produce, but the band teased the album with a mysterious international rollout campaign — then dropped the seven-and-a-half-minute "Reflektor," a minimalist disco epic complete with skronking horns and a David Bowie guest spot.
The lyrics are repetitive, sure, but disco tended to lock into a groove and ride it, and the way Régine Chassagne's voice skitters around the top of the mix, over Win Butler's haunted baritone, adds a compelling layer of unease here. It's arguable whether Reflektor delivered as an album, but its sleek, dark title track holds up well.
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15. "Crown of Love"
Funeral's "Crown of Love" is a fine example of Arcade Fire's ability to launch the listener on an emotional rollercoaster. Starting off with a slow and anticipatory build, Butler sounds at his most vulnerable and distressed as he sings of a diminishing love. The physical pains of heartache, the crazy-making angst of uncertainty and desperate pleas for forgiveness here are set to beautifully melancholic strings that steadily climb towards an eruption of drastically quickened instrumentation and strangled shouts. It's not until the song rounds its final corner and begins to slowly fade out that everyone along for the ride finally gets a chance to exhale.
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14. "Afterlife"
Channelling their inner ABBA and New Order at the same time, Arcade Fire deliver a song that sounds both familiar yet foreign, nostalgic yet forward-thinking and all-around propulsive with this standout single that helped close out the band's fourth studio album (and most synth-centric). Musically, it's one of Reflektor's more straightforward songs. Lyrically, its musings on the end of a romance and life after death are vague enough to leave its ultimate meaning open for interpretation. You'll be singing along to every word of the chorus, but, like a lot of great songs, its effect likely depends on your own experiences, as well.
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13. "Ocean of Noise"
Starting off as an ominously bleak, sparse soundscape with little more than rumbling bass, piano and a tinny drum machine, "Ocean of Noise" slowly and methodically swells and swells — and just when you think it couldn't build any more, the lovely lads of mariachi rockers Calexico join in with their horns for a rapturous conclusion. It's an ending that makes you rethink the entire song, and ends up as a prime example of an early Arcade Fire staple theme: There's hope in unexpected places, and sometimes, if you're lucky, you don't even have to look for it.
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12. "We Used to Wait"
There are several parallels to be drawn between The Suburbs and Radiohead's OK Computer, but no song from the former shares the themes of the latter more explicitly than "We Used to Wait." Perhaps remembered best for its location-based music video tie-in with Google Chrome, The Wilderness Downtown, the song nevertheless explores fear of modernity with all the anxiety of a paranoid android. True to their nature though, Arcade Fire imbue that fear with nostalgia for the past via the preciousness of expressing feelings by putting pen to paper. Fittingly, they come across as much happier people than their English counterparts.
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11. "Keep the Car Running"
From the opening orchestral swell, it's clear Arcade Fire are gunning for something huge on "Keep the Car Running." But it's Tim Kingsbury's bouncing bass that proves to be its most enduring piece of instrumentation; notice just how empty the song feels when it drops out, leaving just the mandolin to carry the tune. Lyrically, the song reads like an outtake from Darkness on the Edge of Town; something is closing in on the protagonist, and he needs to get out before it gets him. Fittingly, when Win Butler and Régine Chassagne joined Springsteen onstage in Ottawa in 2007, this was one of the two songs the artists played together.
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10. "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)"
Though it has its share of chaotic moments, Funeral is, for the most part, a consistently pretty album — which makes the minimalist thrash of "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" stick out. With its talk-sung, sometimes chanted verses, its trashcan percussion and lyrical mystique, "Laika" is one of Arcade Fire's weirder early moments, even if its back half is buoyed by a more straightforward (and lovely) violin line.
Everything in "Laika" feels crucial and passionate, do-or-die in a way that the album's prettier (#1), more imposing (#3) and more sophisticated (#4) neighbourhoods never quite do.
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9. "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)"
The Suburbs' penultimate track is also the greatest showcase the band ever gave Régine Chassagne. Over a pulsing synth line, she sings about the urban-suburban divide as she dreams of moving to the city and leaving the past behind — yet, suburban sprawl and the 9 to 5 grind prove inescapable, leaving no room for the creative life that she yearns for.
Notably, and unlike many Arcade Fire songs, "Sprawl II" features a short bridge, where the song modulates up a few notes before dropping back down into the chorus, giving it the momentum needed to sustain all five-and-a-half glorious minutes of its runtime.
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8. "Rebellion (Lies)"
Lots of groups describe themselves as a family or collective, but on this propulsive Funeral highlight and biggest single, Arcade Fire come across like a gang, ready to wake up the neighbourhood with their noise.
That image is exemplified in the song's video, where the band barnstorm through a suburban enclave dressed in matching outfits, pounding out the tune as the neighbourhood kids rise up and join their rebellion. In the eyes of Arcade Fire, adults are the enemy, sleep their weapon — so raise your fist, beat a drum and sing loud in protest.
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7. "The Suburbs"
On "The Suburbs," Arcade Fire imbue life's mundanities with the weight of the world, kicking off the namesake album with a thoroughly youthful tribute to the paradox of growing up, the haphazard teenage oscillation between caring too much and not at all. It's a nostalgia trip to a simpler time, soundtracked by jaunty keyboards and falsetto vocals, wistfulness in musical form.
But where the song transcends is when it deals with the weight of the present: By the time Win Butler opens up about his (since realized) dreams of fatherhood, the tissues are already out.
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6. "No Cars Go"
The song so nice Arcade Fire recorded it twice, "No Cars Go" was known, for the band's first few years, as one of the few solid moments on a debut EP that was anything but. They revisited it for Neon Bible, upping the urgency and instrumentation while keeping its symphonic drone of an opening, marching post-punk drum fill, tremolo-picked guitars and powerful melody practically the same.
Husband and wife duo Win Butler and Régine Chassagne have always taken turns at lead vocals, but both take centre stage on this single, which is not only one of the band's most democratic in execution, but also their most ornate.
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5. "Ready to Start"
Curiously, "Ready to Start" doesn't lead off The Suburbs, and seems only tangentially related to its themes. It does, however, lay bare the two paths for bands who become successful: reject the establishment and stay true to your roots, or embrace your new platform, effectively starting again with a new audience.
From their earliest recordings, both in form and function, Arcade Fire aligned themselves with the underground. Their success — part of a larger insurrection of indie culture into the mainstream — looked like a betrayal to naysayers. But fame came to the band on their own terms; they remained with Merge and continued to keep things as DIY as a band packing stadiums could.
"Ready to Start" is the band's unapologetic rejoinder to friends and admirers who hold a grudge. They're not going to change; not for the "businessmen who are drinking [their] blood," but not for the "kids in art school," either.
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4. "My Body Is a Cage"
An achingly gorgeous ode to anxiety, Neon Bible's "My Body Is a Cage" begins quiet and minimalistic, as Win Butler longs for happiness that his own inner turmoil prevents him from attaining. Even without the vivid imagery of a soul trapped behind bars and disconnected from the rest of the living world conjured by the lyrics, the frontman's sentiment is plainly conveyed by the quaver in his voice.
The barely-there organ, percussion and backing vocals from the beginning of the song eventually swell into a crescendo release of pent-up emotion, matched by the repeated refrains of "Set my spirit free!" and "Set my body free!" that spill out from the darkest depths of Butler's psyche — but provide a glorious moment of catharsis for listeners, as well.
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3. "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)"
If you're old enough that Arcade Fire make you nostalgic, it's likely that Funeral was your first full listening experience with the band — and that the sombre, lonely, twinkling keys of opener "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" were the first sounds you heard.
Before Funeral becomes calamitous, "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" conveys a sense of awakening that sets the scene for the rest of the album, a realization that any sense of isolation is surmountable as long as we reach out. Win Butler doesn't just suggest he'll "dig a tunnel from my window to yours" once, but twice; "Yeah," he repeats," a tunnel."
Dynamic and sweeping, the song's instrumentation ebbs and flows while the tempo, at first tentative, becomes faster, the message more insistent, as it approaches its tremendous climax.
Is there an opening song on a debut album more indicative of what's the come from a band than "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)"? Perhaps. But is it as gut-wrenchingly beautiful as this?
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2. "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)"
Listening to Funeral for the first time is a revelation from its first notes, but it's not until the fourth track, "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)," that one truly gets a sense of the band's sheer power.
Swiftly and suddenly, that opening blast of noise hits like a hurricane; the slamming percussion never ceases, underscoring the central theme of the song — optimism — with a ragged ferocity that the band would never quite summon again.
Though Win Butler is wailing that "I woke up with the power out," he readily admits in just the next line that it's "not really something to shout about." The ruckus here is about something bigger, something only a band in their youth could care this much about: The tragedy of allowing one's light to go out, be smothered or hidden. Butler's command is simple: "Take it from your heart and put it in your hand!"
Arcade Fire would touch on this theme again throughout their later catalogue, but never this stirringly.
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1. "Wake Up"
Beneath the technophobia, religion-induced dystopia and papier-mâché heads, one image reigns supreme in the sprawling mythology of Arcade Fire: That of cramming as many friends and collaborators on stage at once to exist together in cacophonic quasi-unison. It's that image that gives us "Wake Up," the group's most emblematic work, in which innumerable band mates shout together, mouths and hearts wide open in a ragged bellow set to the metallic chug of a monolithic chord on guitar.
The centrepiece of a record forged from a series of deaths in band mates' families, "Wake Up" is a pleading message to both appreciate life's ups and understand its downs. But as the band have transitioned into screen-shuttering spokespeople — as dutifully conveyed in every aspect of their recent work, from song to video to social media presence — there's something to be said for the universality of the sentiment in "Wake Up." Here, there's no pretence, no judgment — just space to embrace your failures, insecurities and obstacles, to vent your frustrations with whomever else is out there.
And then, the storm passes, the tempo speeds up and life proceeds as normal again. "Wake Up" knocks the wind out of you and then gets you back up on your feet — again and again, as in life.
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Dig into Arcade Fire's back catalogue via Umusic.