From eastern European gypsy-folk to French chamber pop, Beirut’s Zach Condon finds inspiration in odd places. Yet he’s always been able to fuse his disparate influences into coherent records dripping with his distinctive artistic touch. Nowhere is that talent more apparent than on the band’s latest release, a double EP consisting of March of the Zapotec, a somber, horn-laden foray into Mexican folk music, and Holland, which draws on both electronica and ‘80s synth-pop. Inexplicably leaked onto the Internet and made available for purchase on iTunes almost a month before its expected arrival, the release fits perfectly in the Beirut discography despite indulging two wholly dissimilar aesthetics.
March of the Zapotec finds bandleader Zach Condon backed by the 19-piece Jimenez Band, which Condon met on a trip to Oaxaca, Mexico. While brooding brass lines have long been the backbone of Beirut’s sound, the Jimenez band provides Condon’s voice with a thundering, gloomy backdrop, sounding something like a lonely desert funeral march. “La Llorona,” a somber number based on a Mexican folk legend, is backed by a bombastic tuba line, wailing trumpets, and a morose clarinet, while the slow, squealing saxophones of instrumental, “On a Bayonet,” swell into an agonized drone. On “The Akara,” Condon sings, “so long, so long, I can’t wait anymore” over wilting trumpets and his trademark ukulele. The highlight, however, is “The Shrew,” a light ballad of lost love that crescendos into a tumultuous chorus of cymbals and brass.
Holland takes a different road entirely. Credited to Realpeople, Condon’s pre-Beirut moniker, the songs are upbeat, melodic, and vaguely danceable, adding Beirut’s warm harmonies and nontraditional instruments to electronic synth-pop. “Venice” combines dreamy, phased-out synthesizer chords with trumpet-clarinet harmonies, giving the song the same pensive, wistful quality of much of Beirut’s earlier work. Even though Condon dabbles largely in electronic sounds, a song like “The Concubine,” which features both an accordion and a glockenspiel, wouldn’t feel out of place on the 2006 debut Gulag Orkestar.
Despite their differences, neither EP seems overwrought. Condon’s powerful baritone sounds equally comfortable over the punchy brass melodies of Zapotec and the mechanical beats of Holland. Whether he’s lamenting the absence of a former lover or leading a Mexican funeral procession, Condon’s songs hit home. Put side by side, the EPs showcase his versatility as a songwriter and arranger. More importantly, they prove that, every once in a while, a truly gifted composer can transcend the constraints of genre.
Voice’s Choices: “Venice,” “The Concubine,” “La Llorona”
