Being both an inner-city boy and a post-Neon Bible cynic to the AF cause, you can imagine the cynicism I’ve approached the Suburbs with. All the begrudgery in a block of Dublin City Council flats couldn’t deny the work of near-perfection Arcade Fire’s return to majesty offers. Outside of obvious criticisms (overlong, Month of May being the worst song ever written, Win Butler is a sap), this record beats Funeral for variety, warmth, and arrangement to deal an even more brutal punch in the heart than their earlier examples of modern magic.
Words: Daniel Gray
