Funerals

There are 3 ways I talk about the classic album Funeral. 1- Musically/critically speaking. 2-My personal connection with it. 3- The message of the album. This is a blog about that 3rd one.
I never fully understood Arcade Fire's Funeral until this summer, my first summer in a few years without any clinical stress disorder issues. I don't want to talk about who the band is now or who they've been for the last few years, but I'd like to talk about people dying.
The band recorded the album after a series of recent deaths of their family members. Making music is hard to do in a time of mourning, but perhaps it's easier when your music mourns with you.
Funeral covers all post-traumatic emotion, the fear and the comfort that follows it.
The first song starts with an organ that sounds like it had already been playing, and we just started listening in abruptly. The first word of the album is "and." It's as if Win Butler has already gotten a lot off his chest, but he and his band can go on for another 45 minutes.
The album has a lot of themes:  Family, death, youth, lies, neighborhoods, love, babies, sleeping, light, shadows... as familiar as these themes seem, you never know when they're going to bring up which topic.
The album kicks off at the end of tears and the beginning of a comforting revelatory experience. You can always just "dig a tunnel" if things go wrong. There's even a moment or two of fear in Win's voice, but everything turns out okay in the end. Track 2 is a harsh return to reality and full of panic, realizing the world is still a scary place and the past is real. Track 3 is some much-needed comfort food, mostly slow, but turning into something energetic by the end. Track 4 doesn't stop the energy at all, just turns it into something dark. The blood just started pumping in track 3, and it was a joyful experience. In track 4, the power goes out ("in the heart of man"). It's an anxious run through the neighborhood trying to find the light again. Track 5 is very slow, very quiet, and even includes the household familiar sound of a boiling kettle. The character figures out what he wants with his life, if only for a few minutes.
Track 6 keeps the same slow pace, but the volume builds up and the original patience eventually crashes into a something that reminds me of tantrums I used to have as a toddler. The sprint apparently ends at a mountain top where track 7 takes place. A banner is waving from above reminding us to never grow up and staying young is the only way to hold on to good feelings through sucky adulthood. Track 8 is a dreamy tack with samples that sound like a stream you'd find in meadow. It's refreshing, but it doesn't make any sense. Track 9 has a throbbing beat throughout, while the band ponders if everything in this world is "just a lie." The original chord progression is a major key that's uplifting, but there's an unexpected minor chord progression that throws you off-guard. The beat doesn't stop, but what started out as inspiring ends on a dark note. Track 10 is the finale. Very slow. It's the lonely ride home at 1 a.m. Classic theatrical build (soft/loud/not as soft/very loud/prolonged diminuendo). It ends so softly, I'm still not sure what the final note is. Perhaps it ends right where it began.
I'm sure that the depressive feeling of thinking nobody cares about you comes after a loved one loses a life. Considering these guys were just some random people making a debut album in Canadian city with little rock history, I'm sure Arcade Fire felt this way commercially as well. But they worked their butts off on it anyway.
Despite the darkness and fear that comes with Funeral, it's a reminder that you have something to live for. You may be thinking negative thoughts and feel confused everyday, but somebody's hearing you. You can pray. You can talk to a friend. You can talk to a stranger. You can record it in a studio so millions of strangers can hear you.
And of course, you can always dig a tunnel.
You shouldn't have to feel alone at a funeral.