Worst Albums of the Year (so to speak)

Is it unfair to hold a band to the standards of its previous successes or failures? Certain arguments can be made either way. On the one hand, artists should be expected to fail, otherwise none would take any risks. And those who don't take risks could hardly be called artists, anyway. However, when talented people do fail, it's magnified under the light of their former brilliance.

The two most disappointing albums of the year share at least two things in common. They have the finest, most creative packaging on any album you'll see all year. One comes with a decoder to reveal a seemingly endless array of gypsy-like art work; the other comes in a holographic box inside which are two flip books and a transparent plastic CD sleeve that looks like an abstract film frame. The packaging alone is almost worth the price of the CDs. But before you open your wallets, the second thing they have in common is that each artists' previous album was brilliant by most accounts whereas their follow up efforts are considerably less than, to say the least. The first of these two albums, Bright Eyes's Cassadaga showcases an artist on autopilot, building on a formula he's been developing for a few years, while eschewing the personal poignancy that made his previous album, I'm Wide Awake It's Morning so stunning. The second album is Arcade Fire's sophomore effort, Neon Bible, on which the band tries to broaden their sound and scope to disastrous results.

Cassadaga really wouldn't be so bad were it not for I'm Wide Awake. There are some decent songs on this album, particularly "Make a Plan to Love Me" and "Lime Tree," but these songs are aberrations on an album of condescending bumper sticker activism from his high perch as a moral authority. The reason these two songs succeed is the same reason nearly every song on I'm Wide Awake was so powerful. They are introspective, subtle songs about love, loss, and loneliness. The orchestration on each remains subdued enough not to overshadow the lyrics, while managing to buttress and shape Oberst's sentiments into stirring dramatic ballads.

Yet, Conor Oberst, the singer/songwriter of Bright Eyes, spends most of the album attacking groups, ideas, governments, wars, etc. And it isn't that I don't agree with most of his sentiments, but with out any introspection, he becomes a mouthpiece and a finger wagger. Oberst's most powerful weapon has always been the devastating glare he would cast on himself. I'm Wide Awake was rife with stories about love and loss, failures as a man, and confusion as an American. He still managed to protest against the war but he did it subtly, via allegory, weaving stories and imagery over traditional country-folk orchestration that broke your heart without wasting a breath on a soap box, preaching. Not a single song on Cassadaga carries the same weight or pathos that "Poison Oak," "We are Nowhere and it's Now," or "Land Locked Blues." Nor is there any song as accessible or sweet as "First Day of My Life."

On Cassadaga, Oberst continues to swim in the country waters, but he's lost all his soul. Too many songs are orchestrated like a hootenanny where you can never have enough instruments. It is without a doubt, the most heavily produced Bright Eyes album, but that only seems to strip it of its sincerity. There's really very little on this album that feels honest or personal and it kind of feels like Oberst was preoccupied during the creation of these songs. A girl, perhaps? He makes no effort to cloak his message. When he wants to attack religion, for instance, he doesn't skirt the issue with metaphor, he rants of "Satan...the whore of babylon," and says things like, " The Bible's blind, the Torah's deaf, the Qu'ran's mute." On I'm Wide Awake, a similar sentiment likely would have been tucked away in a description of a young man clutching his bible while stealing a car and driving all the way to nowhere. Not that that happened, but my point is, when an artist insists on hitting the nail on the head, I feel like he or she's pounding that nail through my skull.

Ultimately, this album feels insincere and that's a horrible thing for someone who made I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning which came off as the pinnacle of sincerity because he attacked himself before he ever looked toward anyone else.

As for Neon Bible, there's only one word to describe this album: irritating. It is absolutely, unequivocally average. It has two great tracks, "Ocean of Noise" and "No Cars Go," two absolutely awful tracks, "Keep the Car Running" and "Neon Bible," and seven tracks that reside somewhere between awful and good. Combine this with the absolute punch drunk infatuation the critics have with Arcade Fire to the point that they're high off the hype and utterly unable to see think objectively, and this album becomes an irritating thorn. It doesn't even draw blood, it just sticks there every time someone looks at me aghast to exclaim, "How can you not like the new Arcade Fire?" as though it were a requirement of all indie music fans. But I sincerely doubt that two weeks after writing such glowing praise (Pitchfork I'm looking at you) the critics were still listening to this trite drivel called Neon Bible.

After Funeral there was a small but significant backlash in certain circles to Arcade Fire's meteoric popularity. Now, if you don't like the music, that's legitimate, but to base your opinions on the opinions of other people, even if it's to counter those opinions, is to be a pod person without a self. Therefore, I sincerely believe the backlash against Funeral was unwarranted on the whole. So many people flocked to that album because it was legitimately quality from start to finish and an album like that is a rarity. When they come along, you know it, because they bridge all tastes and genres. I would put it alongside Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and An Airplane Over the Sea in regards to albums that seem to have no ceiling and are able to appeal to nearly everybody who listens to it. Unfortunately, they were christened after that album (and aided by their subsequent raucous tour) as the Messiahs of independent rock, which stipulates somewhere that "Arcade Fire can do no wrong." And thus, they took a shit on record and everyone called it gold. (OK. That was an overstatement).

So what happened? Well, you could argue sophomore slump and you'd be pretty spot on. Taking after Mr. Oberst, they extended their songs' scope, seeking meaning in religion, government, socio-economic disparity, war, love, loss, disappointment, etc. They also tried to expand musically, tempering their "anthems" for which they became known, to build restrained, heavily orchestrated songs that rarely if ever explode into the cathartic release of Funeral. Occasionally the lyrics are a bit on the nose, but I don't really have a problem with them, because I spend too much time cringing at the god-awful melodies. As I mentioned before, "Keep the Car Running" and "Neon Bible" are just devastating coming from a band and a song writer that have proven themselves as quality song writers. The melodies in each of these songs sounds like something written for a children's show on PBS, with a repetitive descending structure that nearly caused me to gouge my inner ear with a toothpick.

Almost equally annoying are the paired tracks, "(Antichrist Television Blues)" and "Windowsill," if only for their utter lack of lyrical creativity and the overbearingly repetitive structure of their refrains. "(Antichrist Television Blues)" begins with "I don't want to work in a building down town, no I don't want to work in a building down town..." and repeat. This is immediately followed by "Windowsill" which begins "I don't want to hear the noises on TV, I don't want the salesman coming after me, I don't want to live in my father's house no more..." and he proceeds to recount all the things he doesn't want to do. You see my problem here?

On the other hand, "Ocean of Noise" is a stunning track holds up with the best written by Arcade Fire. It opens in a torrential thunderstorm, out of which grows the rhythm section and piano as though brought in on the tempestuous winds. The song builds into a beautiful conclusion replete with steel drums, jazzy percussion, an elegant horn section, and Win Butler's soaring vocals. "No Cars Go," is the one track on the album that feels like it could have existed on Funeral. It's anthemic machine gun percussion, sweeping strings, and communal singing (not to mention shouts of elation) give the track an energy and impetuous drive otherwise completely absent on the rest of the album. The song is a thrill ride with soft contemplative moments bookended by towering instrumental breaks that take off like a rocket for the heavens.

In all honesty, Neon Bible isn't as horrible as I make it sound. It's actually just completely average. But that isn't good enough and artists shouldn't get free passes because of their previous successes. All in all, Arcade Fire made a concerted effort to expand their sound and their song writing. Kudos for that, at least. An artist without balls is no artist. (Figurative balls, of course.) Fortunately for them, critics don't possess their same testicular fortitude. Neon Bible really ought to be regarded as a failure. Still, the band remains intriguing enough, and occasionally thrilling enough, that I am all too anxious for their hopefully much improved third album. May it be their best, yet.

So is it fair to hold an artist up to the standards of their previous successes or failures? It may not be fair, but its impossible to do otherwise. Oddly enough, the one band that seems incapable of the occasional failure, Radiohead, was nearly torn apart after the constant accolades bestowed upon OK Computer, the minions of critics declaring it an inarguable, inimitable masterpiece. It's that word - inimitable that's so damning. How do you follow up something that's inimitable? Thom Yorke knew they couldn't remake OK Computer. Not if they wanted to remain relevant, so they scrapped the guitar rock formula in favor of new age IDM and Industrial soundscapes to create a follow-up masterpiece. This is ultimately unfair. We can't all be Radiohead.

The irony, I suppose, is that Cassadaga was probably unfairly underrated because it didn't hold up to I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, while Neon Bible was overrated because everyone was so in love with Funeral. Now that's unfair. Still, both albums are utter disappointments and that's why they are, so far, my least favorite albums of the year. I expected more.