| Having released the internationally celebrated Gulag Orkestar in May of 2006,
Beirut has been under the public gaze for little more than a year. Yet,
within that short time, the band has experienced travels to Russia, Poland,
Turkey and throughout North America and Europe, as well as a tsunami of
interviews, photoshoots and features. It has been a year where associations with
Lebanon’s capital city turned yet again from romantic to tragic, and where a
great fervor could develop around an album conceived and constructed in a
teenager’s New Mexico bedroom.
Zach Condon recorded Gulag at his parent’s home shortly after quitting
college. For him, it was nothing new, having recorded hundreds of songs since he
was fifteen the same way. However, as this was his first record to get properly
released, with the flood of attention, as online raves lead to reverential
fandom, he set about constructing a full band to perform. Astonishingly,
he proved himself as talented a bandleader as composer. New songs were
written, album songs reworked, and the band’s shows quickly developed to
dramatic heights far beyond its mere months-long existence (do an online search
of live reviews for proof). This band went on to record an EP, Lon Gisland
(pronounce with an East New York accent), which marked the first Beirut
recordings with the live ensemble.
Six months of recording has led to The Flying Club Cup. Inspired by an
obscure photo from 1910 depicting hot air balloons taking flight mere steps away
from the Eiffel Tower, an image Zach stuck to the wall for inspiration, The
Flying Club Cup is an homage to France’s culture, fashion, history and music. In
fact, each song intends to evoke a different French city. Yes, two years ago,
Condon was immersing himself in Balkan folk, absorbing the newly discovered
sounds, scales and styles. Two years ago. That’s an even longer time
when you are 21 years old. He absorbed what he heard – the sonic joys of a
skeletally structured, cacophonic ensemble – and moved west. Soaking up
the likes of Francois Hardy, Charles Aznavour and, most notably, Jacques Brel (a
huge influence on both Scott Walker and Mark E Smith), Condon has been
articulating his conversational French, especially during between-song-banter at
shows. However, the album, which like all of Beirut’s music waxes
nostalgic about the cultures it emulates, was recorded far from its heart’s
epicenter.
Initial work was done to computer at a nondescript Albuquerque office space,
aka the A Hawk and a Hacksaw practice room; Heather Trost of AHAAH plays violin
and viola on three songs. Engineering and production assistance came from
Griffin Rodriguez (AHAAH, Man Man) whose ability to distinguish instruments out
of a sea of sound is unparalleled. He helped separate the many
instrumentalists, who were deeply involved in recording, as opposed to Gulag’s
largely solo flight. The orkestar, which has solidified into a core group
of eight total members, have grand plans for replicating the album live, and are
now an integral part of Beirut’s identity.
An opportunity to record in a real studio came via a friendship formed with
multi-instrumentalist Owen Pallet, who records as Final Fantasy. In trade,
Owen asked the band to play on an EP he was recording (to be released on Dead
Oceans) in exchange for offering up some of his studio time. And thus,
Beirut got to record at the Masonic church studio owned by Arcade Fire, and more
opportune, populated with their many obscure instruments. Initial plans to
add final touches to the songs developed into something more ornate, as Pallet,
whose arrangement abilities have benefited dozens of records, added lush string
sections and singing (on Cliquot).
So here we have The Flying Club Cup, something more than a home recording but
no less personal; something less than a studio album but no less professional.
Within the spectacle and intimacy, you can hear a love letter to the joie de
vivre that defines our existence. Listen closer, and you also hear the
emergence of a singular musical talent –Mr Zachary F Condon, at present living
in Paris – who is as unbounded by cultural borders as he is led by where his
heart travels.
|
Austin Wilde
