PHOTOCREDIT
On 2004’s Funeral, Win Butler and his appealingly ragtag cohorts in Arcade Fire made the loss of several family members sound like the end of the world. For Neon Bible, the Canadian band’s sophomore full-length, Butler turned things inside out, worrying over God and war in lushly appointed chamber-pop epics that make the end of the world resonate like a close-to-home calamity. That’s not to suggest that Neon Bible, most of which was recorded in a converted church outside Montreal, forgoes the wide-angle grandeur that first endeared the band to the drama queens of Blogland. (For proof of Butler’s theatrical streak, proceed directly to the organ-enriched “Intervention,” which ought to earn a cease-and-desist from Andrew Lloyd Webber—or Ian McCulloch—any day now.) But in a year clogged with empty indie-scene bombast signifying little but the increasing affordability of high-end recording gear, Arcade Fire made their histrionics say something. Something scary and terrible and uplifting, all at once. M.W.
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