March of the Zapotec and Realpeople Holland
It's hard to say whether "March of the Zapotec" actually counts as an album. Rather, Zach Condon, the voice behind Beirut, sutures together two very distinct sounding EPs to form this ambitious and sometimes schizophrenic record.
The first six songs sound like mostly familiar territory for the band. Condon's operatic voice is surrounded by a choir of brass instruments. Yet, the music is tinged with a more somber tone than Beirut's previous records, mainly due to a temporary swap in Condon's backing band. As the story goes, he decided to fly down to Mexico and recruit a local 19-piece funeral ensemble called the Jimenez Band to record these tracks.
As strange as this part of the record may sound, it still seems like a natural progression for Condon. After all, he named his band after a Middle Eastern city, recorded a debut record centered around the landscape of central Europe and followed it up with a record deeply rooted in Paris. As a Beirut fan, you become accustomed to this globetrotting soundscape. In this way, Condon can be viewed as an even more ambitious Sufjan Stevens, attempting to capture the pulse of the world, not just the United States.
While the first half of the record can be seen as a natural progression for the band, the second half of the record feels like an absolute departure. Four of these last five songs are filled with techno beats and synthesizers that seem to be lifted from some late '90s video game. Yet, as it turns out, this is actually a return to Condon's origins. Before he began recording as Beirut, Condon wrote synth-saturated songs under the moniker Realpeople.
Both halves have their highlights and their flaws. "My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille," a techno ballad on the second half of the record, deserves to be in the top ranks of Beirut's catalogue. It retains the world-weariness and verve of many traditional Beirut songs, and adds to it a beat you can move to. Meanwhile, the closing song of the record, "Venice," is a dull drawn out tune with a synth riff that, at best, deserves to be the background to a homemade YouTube dance video.
As for the Zapotec tracks, the two standouts are "La Llorona" and "The Akara." The latter, in particular, sounds like the soundtrack to the aftermath of a mid-western duel. If there is a flaw to this half of the album, it's that several of the songs blur together. Yet, all the tracks feel fresh and like valuable additions to their catalogue. Even the short instrumental, "On A Bayonet," is musically exciting and strangely infectious.
Ultimately, through any shifts in the band's sound, you can always cling to Zach's voice. It is the identifying characteristic of all their songs, stamping them as Beirut tracks. It is also the band's greatest attribute and the reason to follow them as they hop from landscape to the next.