ALBUM REVIEW: Arcade Fire yearns to turn the page with ‘Pink Elephant’

Arcade Fire Pink Elephant

Arcade Fire, “Pink Elephant.”

Call it the elephant in the room, or try not thinking about pink elephants, but this seventh album by Arcade Fire is the band’s first since a controversy swirled around allegations of sexual misconduct against lead vocalist Win Butler in 2023. At first glance, it may appear surprising to have the band return so quickly. But with the album title and at various point throughout the record, it feels like Arcade Fire, or Butler specifically, wants to face what’s coming and then move on.

Pink Elephant
Arcade Fire

Columbia, May 9
6/10
Get the album on Amazon Music.

The band has said that pre-release single “Year of the Snake,” a gauzy dirge, is named for the 2025 lunar year, representing “renewal, positive transformation and new beginnings.” The song sees Régine Chassagne playing bass for the first time, while Butler is behind the drum kit.

“I need a clean break,” the married couple sings. “I picked up a new scar/ I tried to be good/ I’m a real boy, my heart’s full of love/ It’s not made out of wood.” This song could be about any number of things, yet the songwriters surely knew how it would be interpreted.

In this manner, Pink Elephant, Arcade Fire’s first album since 2022’s WE, ambles along. It’s a moody album of 10 songs—three of them being wordless scene setters. Canadian craftsman Daniel Lanois produced the album, and his fingerprints are all over these soundscapes, which in essence split the album into a triptych. The three songs—opener “Open the Heart or Die Trying,” “Beyond Salvation” and “She Cries Diamond Rain”—carry the album’s exploratory through line.

The contributions of the other members, who on this album include Jeremy Gara, Tim Kingsbury and Richard Reed Parry, mostly provide framework for Chassagne’s and Butler’s lyrical observations on life and turning over a new leaf. The album doesn’t offer intriguing hooks or standout moments of musicality. Sometimes the vocals are front and center, adding poignancy.

“It’s a mess in my bedroom/ A mess in my car/ A mess in my head/ A mess in my heart,” Butler sings on album closer “Stuck in My Head,” which at longer than seven minutes plays like a quietly simmering panic attack.

Other times, they’re muffled in the mix, like whispered admissions, or more inscrutable, such as on the New-Wavey “Circle of Trust.” This song and several others mention characters who have fallen from grace.

“I’m with Kid Icarus/ He says his name’s on the list/ Says if you hadn’t kissed him/ He wouldn’t exist,” Butler sings. The reference could be to the Greek god who flew too close to the sun and had his wings burn off, falling to his death. Of course, it could also be a reference to ’90s Nintendo game “Kid Icarus.” But when the reference is in a song called “Circle of Trust”—which some fans have said Butler broke—it’s hard to ignore.

Live, no doubt Arcade Fire will find a way to embellish these songs and turn them into cathartic moments for fans. On record, however, they’re muted and somber. The exception is standout rocker “Alien Nation” (“alienation,” anyone?), which starts similarly but then explodes into an angry metallic cacophony:

“We’re goin’ off the grid/ We’re blowin’ off the lid/ We’re way beyond salvation/ In the Alien Nation,” the vocalists sing. “Between the God of love/ And the God of lust/ In the crops they burn/ A circle of trust/ The flight’s delayed/ For the prophet’s spoken/ Put all your hopes/ And all your dreams/ In the machine/ And the machine is broken.”

Still, the end of the song implies that the hate being lobbed at the storyteller will be returned “with love.”

It’s a complicated time to be Arcade Fire. This album will be framed in a certain context and what happens after isn’t clear, nor does the conversation belong in an album review. But overall, the band seems to be asking for the music to be considered neutrally.

“Take your mind off me a little while/ In the darkest place I saw you smile/ And the way it all changed/ Makes me wanna cry, but/ Take your mind off me,” Butler sings on the title track, knowing full well it’s what listeners will think about but making the request anyway.

Contact editor Roman Gokhman at Bluesky.

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