As Zach Condon’s band grows, so, it seems, does his vision.
At the tender age of 22, under the moniker Beirut, Condon is touring on
his second full-length, The Flying Club Cup. Continuing to use
Balkan brass ensembles like Kocani Orkestar and Goran Bregovi as a
primary influences, Condon also nods to French crooners like Jacques
Brel and Yves Montand, leaning away from the frenzied zaniness
associated with Macedonian folk music and more toward the somewhat
tortured/romantic, yet sophisticated, pop of post-war France. It may
not seem a likely combination, but it works perfectly.
Condon enlisted Owen Pallet (Final Fantasy)—best known for his
string arrangements for Arcade Fire—and Griffin Rodriguez (A Hawk
and a Hacksaw) for arrangements and production help on Club Cup.
The album is draped in an intricate tapestry of strings, horns,
accordions, and bouzouki (naturally, right?), but despite the number of
instruments and influences, the record avoids becoming cluttered, and
instead captures a quality of magic and longing that seems to go back
centuries.
The closing track, carried by grandiose piano rolls, ultimately
abandons lyrics for a half-yodeled chorus worthy of the waning hours of
an Oktoberfest party—as if words were no longer capable or
necessary in communicating a camaraderie of heartbreak.
Condon’s voice is a delicate tenor wrought with an emotion beyond
his years, but imbued with a youthful innocence and idealism that
stems, one imagines, from a mind unhindered by the cynicism of time,
infatuated instead by hopelessly romantic and artistic ideals.
The nature of youthful brilliance is fleeting and fragile. Condon
has cancelled the band’s summer European tour with little explanation
other than a letter on their website proclaiming a need to make some
changes before returning with “a new perspective” and new material,
making this likely the last chance to see Beirut and Condon in their
current form, and possibly at their zenith.