When Beirut emerged on the scene with Gulag Orkestar in 2006, 20-year-old Zach Condon bewildered indie listeners with not so much a new sound as a revived one from across the pond. Trumpets and ukulele abound, Condon’s whimsical voice fluttered across melodies rich with atmosphere and a pleasant scent of the old country. While the foreign influence was more aesthetic than legitimate acculturation, its presentation was genuine: The Santa Fe native had a keen appreciation for the southwestern mariachi styles surrounding him, as well as his own versed history with horns.
While Beirut’s debut was nothing short of inventive, nine years have passed and Condon finds himself at a bit of an impasse. Following a list of personal dilemmas, as well as facing an industry that has since garnished a multitude of abstract musical trends and artists, Condon was in need of creative stimulation. But after returning to New York and budding a new romance, Condon was rejuvenated, and Beirut quickly fashioned together their latest LP, No No No. Where most artistic struggles lead to prospects of complexity and outlandish risks, Condon goes the minimalist route here, stripping his worldly project to the bare essentials, favoring basic structures and easy listening. And while Beirut found its roots in transposing the appeals of listeners, the risk aversive No No No leaves little to be analyzed, and its benign approach may come off as the dullest note in the group’s catalog.
The previously dominant sounds of string and brass instruments are suspiciously absent upon first listen, given a supplementary role to piano and percussion arrangements. Condon’s soothingly frail vocals seems immediately contentious to the punchy bongo and keyboard rhythm on opener “Gibraltar.” The dynamic between delicate vocals, vibrant horns and a hushed ukulele on Gulag Orkestar’s “Postcards From Italy” is emotionally swaying, a fervent display of sorrow arranged in ambient serenade. The vocals on “Gibraltar,” however, feel like a flimsy attempt to match the tone of the music rather than work in tandem.
In fact, many vocal melodies throughout the album feel uninspired. The sluggish “At Once” is interjected part way by a symphony of horns before returning to its overindulgent merry-go-round of phrases. And the vocals aren’t the only elements suffering from a lack of ingenuity: Most songs feel wasted on their short runtimes, meandering in simplicity before ending rather abruptly; short and sweet works when it’s the goal, but No No No leaves a rather shallow impression.
No No No may not live up to standards set previously by the band, but that doesn’t necessarily discredit the album on every level. It is, without a doubt, the catchiest work Beirut has made; every song here is easily accessible. Some of the most enjoyable tracks, like “No No No” and “Perth,” feel the most explored melodiously, coming close to the flourishing soundscapes of Beirut’s past. If anything, it’s great background music – something you could listen to while at a café or enjoying a sunny day on your porch.
2015 has shown us that a heavier focus on a pop sound doesn’t necessarily equate to dumbing down or selling out. However, No No No feels like a truly extraordinary band making some unnecessary sacrifices for the sake of a gleefully half-hearted release.