Albuquerque's favorite gypsy minstrels present their first full-length in several years, packing in horns and an endearing menagerie of vintage instruments.
Frontman Zach Condon was only 19 when Beirut's debut LP, Gulag Orkestar, dropped in 2006, and he emerges with confident restraint in his band's third studio album. Tunes such as "Santa Fe" and "East Harlem" lure you in with hypnotic minimalism and bring you back with an old-fashioned pop sensibility.
It's a refreshing change of pace from all the flashy faux-hawk remixes of today. Condon's imagery and opaque lyrics verge on geeky defiance, much like the Smiths and Decemberists in this regard; the stuff of Messenger bag-toting liberal arts majors, to be sure.
But there's enough power and richness on Beirut's new outing to attract a broader audience. Condon doesn't foist his quirks. His quietly charming charisma and bittersweet aesthetic add just the right amount of character.
With a resonant vocal that creaks under the weight of his emotion, Condon and co. give us honesty and less clutter, dispersing judicious solos between the lush arrangements — the isolated moments on The Rip Tide that sweep you away.
4 Stars
This article appears in Aug 25-31, 2011.