Win Butler and R.


A Wizink Center up to the flag sings the great successes of the Canadians in a remarkable show that went from less to more, without a trace of protests over the accusations of sexual harassment against the group’s leader and singer, Win Butler

Win Butler and Rgine Chassange, in Madrid.JUANJO MARTN

A packed Sports Palace refused to cancel this Wednesday to arcade Fire in Madridand pull their great successes despite the accusations of sexual abuse about their singer and leader, Win Butlerthat the Canadian justice is already investigating and, if necessary, will judge soon.

Go away ta know: the mass perhaps thought of the presumption of innocence, or fell into the belief that a complaint is not a conviction, or even unusually decided that an artist is not his work. The fact is that the crowd filled the Wizink Center up to the flag, singing and shouting with the band in a show that went from less to more, and that was solidly supported by the inexhaustible messianism of Canadians, perhaps the greatest artisans in the world. lo-lo-lo mass of the pop of this beginning of the century.

The opening act did not see it the same way, her compatriot Feistwho has put his foot down on the tour while in canada several radios stop playing the band’s songs until the facts are clarified, as if putting on a song or watching a movie of, what do I know, Woody Allensupposed to support that, unfortunately, they sexually abuse anyone.

Wicked looters of everything that can be in and don’t make them excessively ridiculous, unscrupulous vampires as real stars should be in a business where no prisoners are taken, throughout their 18-year career Butler and others have successively disguised themselves as an orchestral song, dark rock, eighties dance, Caribbean whims, lukewarm Africanism and what would paint their, in the end, simple and simple pop tunes, as complex as the mechanism of a pacifier.

It can be explained in two ways. Music writers for commercials say that you have three seconds (and the notes that fit in them) to capture the staff with your sound gesture: all Arcadian hits follow with rigor mortis that catn. Or, what is the same, the rule McCartney: can you whistle? Well go ahead.

The starter must admit that it was not milk. The first bars of Age of anxiety they seemed to sound in the North Polebut the thing took color fast with ready to startY tunnelsfrom their unsurpassed first album, Funeral (2004), put the boiling point, despite the fact that Butler is never capable of singing it decently -the man does not arrive- and he has to hide behind the bangs and the chorus, the very rascal.

But come on, it didn’t matter. Sprawl always seems like a B-side to you at first blondeyou get fat because it will appear Debbie Harry in tights, but Rgine Chassangeeven with that hairstyle krusty and with those irritating grimace dances Jesmarhe always ends up cute with his bellows, sometimes bald out of tune.

everything now the same: at first it seems like a TV show tune Hermida, but when you realize it you hum it with a stupid smile. Both inflamed the pea, as it did Rebellion (lies)with their Russian-inspired final choruses -there were moments when the eight musicians on stage sang, and they sang very decently, another of the secret weapons of these slackers-.

A very show design pinkfloydianwith a kind of hemispherical eyelid onto which powerful visuals (as they say now) were projected, set the stage for the stage tricks of Canadians, who are really, at heart, a bit of street musicians: they play very simple things by moving head a lot, like freaking out all the time.

arcade Fire They have a rule in the way they write songs, which they carry over to their concerts: something always has to happen. Do what you want, but don’t be boring.

Thus, the ideas. Now a surprising change of pace, that we would not forgive anyone but them. Now Win walks around the audience along Bond, a tour that only the Popemobile is missing. Here Rgine insists that he has to play the drums, even though there is already ANOTHER drummer playing at the same time. Wait, here are some fidodidos 10-meter-high inflatables and you think you’re in a seedy-ad fantasy.

Come on, they sell their mother for taking you to the orchard and for entangling you in their flea market bombast, that sumptuousness a bit, to be honest, ridiculous. But you let yourself, because if you buy that they are not mills, but giants, the thing ends up being cool.

Anyway, yes, we accept a boat as an aquatic animal.

Especially for that ending, linking an almost acoustic and great version of the spanish bombs of Clashwith the impepinable, irreproachable, irrepressible wake-upwhich knocked down the Wizink for four minutes, and put it back on its feet.

And after such a work of art, the guys go and say goodbye doing a kind of batucada among the public, as if they were Carlinhos Brown at the parties of Arganzuela. Anyway…


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J. A. Allen

Author, blogger, freelance writer. Hater of spiders. Drinker of wine. Mother of hellions.

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