Product Description

'The Flying Club Cup' is the second album by Zach Condon, AKA Beirut. Following on from his impressive debut album 'Gulag Orchestra', this release finds Condon expanding his musical vision from the Balkan alt-folk of his previous work and augmenting it with flourishes of French chanson music. Includes the tracks 'La Banlieue', 'The Penalty' and 'In The Mausoleum'.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #2028 in Music
• Released on: 2007-10-08
• Number of discs: 1

Customer Reviews

Atmospheric

The Flying Club Cup contains the most compelling melodies and arrangements of songs inspired by French folk and popular music. Coban's addictive voice and the backing vocals are backed by an appealing instrumental mix that including horns, fiddles, piano, violin, viola, mandolin, brass, accordion, strings and layers of percussion. The sound is cohesive and authentic, for a full impressive sound on these beautiful tunes. My favorites include In The Mausoleum, Cliquot, Nantes and the title track. The mood is introspective, even sad at times, but engaging throughout on this unique and remarkable album. Repeated plays are advised, as the album slowly releases its layers of sonic beauty.

Come Fly with Beirut
Zach Condon, a.k.a. Beirut, has recruited some likeminded people to create an album that builds on his debut "Gulag Orkestar" and fleshes out the sound, with new elements. "Gulag Orkestar" drew a lot of inspiration from Balkan folk music and had a pleasingly homemade air about it. Hearing it almost takes you to a café looking onto a square in Sarajevo, slightly sozzled after a few too many Fernet Brancas, and perfectly happy about that.

"The Flying Club Cup" retains the "organic" quality of Beirut's debut. Those Balkan elements are joined by some French ones. Alongside the attractively puffing brass and clattering percussion comes the equally alluring wheezing accordion. Condon's voice is a rich, slightly wavering baritone. We are told that each song is intended to evoke a different French city. The sound as a whole puts you in mind of a street festival somewhere far from Paris, in a town with cobbled streets and jasmine tumbling over stone walls. This time you may be a little sloshed after a few too many Pernods. The packaging, like "Gulag Orkestar", appears to feature found photographs that evoke something warm and nostalgic but tinged with sadness for lost times and as such they complement the music very well. This (as well as "Gulag Orkestar") is a remarkable album, even more so when you consider that Condon is actually from Santa Fe. Enjoy the parade. Santé!

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Yeah, hype, hype... whatever, I love Beirut. Well, to put it correctly, I love Gulag Orkestar; there's a charm to that record that is unmatched in the overblown and far too serious world of indie rock. You can question the legitimacy of the way Zach Condon embraced Balkan instrumentation, but there was a sincerity to it all that made me purposely ignore all criticism from irate hype-followers. Where now then? France would seem the obvious answer, and yet again I find myself wondering what the man's motivations are for all this. Is this a Sufjan-esque mission to attack and embrace the musical traditions of every country? Just a gimmick that I've bought in to? Does he just lack any sort of useful attention span? Oh, I don't know; all I have is The Flying Club Cup to focus on, so I will.

I'm concerned. This release is shinier than Gulag. Not in the same way as Lon Gisland is, as that EP just sounded grander and all-encompassing; there's something about the way this record has been recorded that makes me lose interest. His vocals have never been his strong point, so it makes sense to bury then under ukuleles, mandolins and other esoteric instruments, right? I just don't understand why they're pushed forward here... they're more noticeable, and therefore easier to worry about. I'm now bored. Yeah, perhaps the songs on the debut were all variations on a theme, but there seems to have been a conscious effort to compose the music here that just falls flat. "Nantes" destroys any ambiguity as to the roots of all this, both in its title and music, as the chosen instruments sound like they should been thrown into a pile of croissants, moustaches, bicycles and coffee just so they would feel at home. And it continues like this; Zach's mournful, all-too-experienced voice decrying... something over marching swells of brass that are straight from the town square. I'm asleep. The title track delivers though; oh, you bet it does! The drums don't rattle in the background, they guide the path through the crowded streets for the rest to follow. I'm awake, overjoyed but passionless.

I suppose this final paragraph is where the conclusion should go, but I don't have one. You see, I just don't know what I want from Beirut any longer; I love the lo-fi, bedroom aesthetic of the debut, but The Flying Club Cup really delivers when it veers off into crazed, free-wheeling celebration. The majority of this album just falls in between, and that's when I get up and start leaving.