The 15 Best Arcade Fire Songs
Photo by Guy Aroch
When Arcade Fire finally released their fifth studio album Everything Now last week, we all celebrated the comeback of the loudest kids in the ‘burbs. The band that has set themselves apart countless times for their impressively orchestrated hits, their ability to drum anthems from whispers of children’s adventures and their young-at-heart rally against the big guns of the world. You can check out our review of the Montreal-based band’s latest effort here, but read on for a look back at the 15 best songs the band has written over the course of their 16-year career.
15. “Empty Room”
It’s telling that the shortest proper song on The Suburbs is also its most tremblingly raw. Its underlying frustration simmers throughout, so when the mood properly unloads into churning, power-chord rock, it crashes into motion like a Ferrari though a glass wall. Owen Pallett’s dizzying, chipmunked string loops are some of the longtime collaborator’s most integral, and Régine Chassagne’s vocals are wickedly urgent and comforting to all listeners, whether they read the track as maniacally lonely or a celebration of solitude. —Zane Warman
14. “Creature Comfort”
“Creature Comfort” briefly disrupts the pattern on Everything Now, putting up the album’s loudest and most empathetic fight against the numbness it occasionally induces. Portishead alumnus Geoff Barrow kickstarts a simple groove with this sawy, Nine Inch Nails-style synth line as the band layers over sour, shrieking chants. Everything Now’s trappings are still found here: The “cheery melody/distressed lyrics” juxtaposition feels calculated and the ‘jam’ precisely timetabled to ensure maximum engagement. But the image of an anguished Butler throwing his head back to cry, “God, please make me famous / if you can’t, just make it painless” makes “Creature Comfort” a rare-sounding moment of authenticity, not as an act of theater. —Zane Warman
13. “(Antichrist Television Blues)”
Neon Bible is Arcade Fire at their most fundamentally folk—more gorgeously dressed instrumentally, but just as morally inconsistent-and “(Antichrist Television Blues)” is the album’s functions at their essence. Butler’s pious, profiteering father figure becomes increasingly despicable, self-righteously manipulating his songbird daughter into performing to line his pockets (no surprise here that the song is inspired by Joe Simpson). The band takes turns ornamenting the 12-bar blues. By the time Butler finishes screaming that he is, “through being cute, I’m through being nice / oh, tell me Lord, am I an Antichrist?” there’s nothing more stark and gratifying than hearing the song’s delirium disappear into nothing. —Zane Warman
12. “Crown of Love”
Arcade Fire does certain things extraordinarily well—instrumental crescendos, tempo changes and key changes, to name a few—and this song has all of them. A love song that’s so passionate that Win Butler’s even “carved your name across [his] eyelids,” its stunning orchestral accompaniments attempt to convey the same message. Beginning at a languid, waltz-like pace, the song explodes toward the end into a massive congestion of instrumentation, when pleading string arrangements roll into a bold and desperate refrain. We’ll be damned if he hasn’t convinced you to stay by the end of the track. —Lori Keong
11. “We Used To Wait”
For many of us, hearing “We Used To Wait” can’t be separated from the visual of Arcade Fire’s Google Earth The Wilderness Downtown project that soundtracked an interactive satellite-based music video of the house you grew up in. “We Used To Wait” is as eloquent of a treatise on changin’ times as Bob Dylan’s take nearly 50 years prior in 1964. It’s the lynchpin of The Suburbs, a perfect concept album if there ever was one, and conjures up nostalgia for those of us who still remember pre-technologically dominated times. And in their long-lasting peak, Arcade Fire managed to turn the pointedly conceptual into something anthemic. It’s the spice of the band when they where at their best. —Adrian Spinelli