Arcade Fire keeps music purposeful

In the wake of economic turbulence, international tragedies and even personal defeats, the production of truly meaningful art often seems to flourish. This is true not only of our generation, but of our artistic predecessors as well.  Consider the bold and unique creative output of the Harlem Renaissance or the daring art and music produced during the Vietnam War.  Some argue that this relationship between the tortured artist and creative genius is merely evidence of escapism, but as of recently, I am not entirely convinced. I have always been a believer in the intrinsic relationship between struggle, whether personal, shared, physical or emotional, and the production of relevant art. And while I understand the power of music to act as a means toward escapist ends, I believe that artistic confrontation of meaningful obstacles is even more powerful.  Arcade Fire's newest album, "The Suburbs," does just that. 

Following two hyper-political and hauntingly dark albums, "The Suburbs" focuses more closely upon the significant fears and looming defeats of our generation. Without making sweeping accusations or indicting listeners, the members of Arcade Fire diagnose a modern epidemic: the desertion of dreams in order to survive in an ultra-competitive society. Not only does Arcade Fire attack these issues with zeal and accuracy, they manage to do so with an infectious energy. Who knew the pangs of reality could be  so fun?

Perhaps this message strikes a particularly sensitive cord for a college student embarking upon her last year, but I find the acknowledgement of these abandoned dreams to be surprisingly inspiring. Through revealing this switch from following a passion to filling a role, "Suburbs" explains that it's not a mandatory transition  —  we still have a choice.  Instead of ignoring the brevity of youth and the recent collective refusal to take risks, Arcade Fire hits the issue head-on. The album, instead of offering an escape, offers an explanation. While not exactly a call to action, the album's reverent characterization of a changing world subliminally tells listeners that it's okay to break away from the pack. 

So, the nostalgia commences. The last three years have disappeared and, with only two semesters left, this album has moved me. It has moved me not only to consider our condition as a generation, but it has reminded me that there are options. In our fast-paced, one-track world, I can't help but be amazed that music still has the ability to resonate and soothe. If that isn't proof of the power of confrontational art, I don't know what is.