The Flying Club Cup [CD]

During the summer Zach Condon (who is, essentially Beruit) discussed his forthcoming album saying it was, interesting how having the band was making a difference to the sound, that he was collaborating with someone who would provide string arrangements, and it was going to have a French feel about it. After the somewhat remarkable "Gulag Orkestra" this seemed an intriguing proposition.

Autum sees the release of the album and it is bigger sounding, imbued with strings, and at times steeped in French chanson. The fact that this is now a band is the most striking development. Where as Condon's debut had a somewhat homespun low-fi feel about it "The Flying Club Cup" has bigger, richer textures. Brass and strings rub shoulders with each other creating something deeper and warmer. The French influences give the album some sharp focus and the influence seems to have sharpened the writing which seems to have managed the difficult feat of improving still on what was a very solid foundation.

This is still, for all its exotic louchness, an album I would happily describe as an indie record. It is definately not world music as Condon takes the basic approaches and then builds his own sound around that. It may offend the world music purists in the approach but it's exactly what upset them last time around. The make or break of this album is the vocals, layered much more confident this time around they are definately something which may well make falling in love with this album difficult for some.

Yet there is much to love here, be it the rolling waltzes of "Cliquot", "Un Dernier Verre", or the title track, or the fact there is still a dash or the Balkan folk which dominated the first album. The neat arrangements, subtle strings and the vocals - at times sounding like a chior of Condons - make this a compelling if different listen. If you like the sonic ambitions of Arcade Fire, the warmth of Sufjan Stevens, and the richness of The Magnetic Fields then this album might well be just what you're looking for.

With so many artists faced with second album expectations rising into the stratosphere, it is nice to find someone who has managed to get their sophomore effort not only out quickly but with something which really builds on the promise shown. It's beguiling and beautiful, with a touch of the exotic about it. There are some great songs here too. Like Paris, the place which inspired so much of it, this is, for some, easy to fall in love with.

Beirut have always been all about Europe. Ever since Zach Condon started mingling electronica and indie-rock with traditional East-European music, his little band has been redolent of the old world.

And though "The Flying Club Cup" has a more modern flavour to some of its songs, the feeling of wistful, melancholy nostalgia still hangs heavily over these exquisitely orchestrated pop tunes. Think early twentieth-century France, as seen through sepia photographs and a band's sad tunes.

It opens with a haunting chorus of wailing horns, before switching to the smooth, swaying melody of "Nantes." Condon sings mournfully, "Well it's been a long time/long time now/since I've seen you smile/and I'll gamble away my fright... and in a year, a year or so/this will slip into the sea..."

It's much the same throughout the remaining songs, which tend to be bittersweet in tone, with a backdrop of horns and stately pop rhythms. Mellow dance tunes, Eastern European marches, mournful accordion-piano ballads, and pretty folky tunes. Not to mention, of course, combinations of all of the above.

In the second half, we're even graced with some upbeat songs -- the twittering violin and swirling melody of "In The Mausoleum." And the sprightliest music on the album is "Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route)," a peppy pop tune that sounds like something Snoopy would dance to as the World War I flying ace.

If I were to compare Condon and Beirut to any other artist, it would probably be Sufjan Stevens -- polished, multilayered music with rich vocals. But the music of "The Flying Club Cup" is all nostalgia, bittersweet and weariness, mingled with a rich, over-the-top quality. It's so much BIGGER than Beirut's past work -- in sound, in scope, in feeling.

Not to mention that the sound here is a bit less Balkan -- think electro-indie mingled with vintage pop melodies, then filtered through an old French radio. Lots of mellow accordion, mingled brass, rattling drums and tambourine, an acoustic guitar, some twittery fiddle melodies and a nimble, energetic piano. Here are there, a gentle layer of keyboard is laid over it all.

Condon's voice is the clincher -- this guy is not only a great musician, but he has a smooth, rich voice that slides through the music like a satin ribbon. And his songs are evocative and stirring ("A plague on the workhouse!"), with plenty of feeling ("what melody will lead my lover from his bed?/What melody will see him in my arms again?").

Beirut's second album is a stunning artistic triumph, draped in classic melodies, exquisite songwriting and sweeping instrumentation. "The Flying Club Cup" flies on its own.

I am so pleased that I discovered this band - it really grew on me and now I am hooked (so are all my friends who have to listen at my place). The new album (Zapotec) is equally fascinating. New music at its best.