An essay about Zac Condon and Beirut Band by James Bonner

Beirut Unleashed: A Harmonious Journey Through My Musical Odyssey w/ the Band

I appreciate simplicity. I’m not sure if I’ve always been that way, to some degree probably, but over the years the experiences and the traumas, simplicity has become more important to me. Beirut is not a simple band. Between the trumpets, flugelhorn, guitar, upright bass, keyboards, trombone, ukulele, sousaphone, melodica, violin, accordion, glockenspiel, drums/percussion, euphonium, saxophone, mandolin, cello, and French horn you would expect the sound of Beirut to be anything but simple. Somehow, how Zac Condon layers the music, the instruments, and the sound delivers a strata of simple brilliance.

My sister introduced me to Beirut after they released the Flying Club Cup album. She said it was the year's best album, raving about how perfect it was. It took me a while longer to want to give it a try. I don’t know why. One afternoon I went for a drive. Beirut came with me. I was floored. The album was phenomenal. Beirut quickly became a favorite band. I downloaded the music to my computer and let it play through my speakers as I lay on my bed, my eyes closed listening to every nuance. It was so beautiful. I grew up in Texas. Texas has some of the most incredible thunderstorms, the kind that stays with us.

The rain can go on for hours with thunder bellowing nearby. I listened to Beirut while it rained, bombing the rooftop, pit pattering on the windows, and the smell of rain rising through the fractures in the house. Music can be visceral if you let it. You can feel it. Vibrations that envelop you influence your emotions and inspire your thoughts. Listening to Beirut is like meditation when you ground yourself and slow your breathing. For the same reason, Beirut is among my favorite bands to listen to while hiking. Hiking alone in the Montana wilderness can be precarious, it’s smart to listen to music or a podcast so nearby wildlife are aware of your presence.

Zach Condon founded Beirut as a solo project before the band made its 2006 New York debut. Condon is from Santa Fe, New Mexico; one of my favorite places. I moved to New Mexico after Condon left. Well after the release of the Flying Club Cup. Regardless, he loves the city and returns frequently. Beirut doesn’t tour often, which is a shame because they can put on unbelievable performances. I saw them play in Santa Fe, New Mexico (I don’t like the way “Santa Fe” looks typed without “New Mexico,” in tow, so I always type it out). Beirut performed at the Sante Fe [New Mexico] Community Center, probably not the best venue for them because of poor acoustics. Nevertheless, it was one of my life’s favorite shows.

For those of you familiar with Beirut you know they’re markedly distinct in part because of their sound, how many bands do you know that highlight the lineup of instruments? But also because of Zac Condon’s unique, and haunting vocals. It’s impossible to mistake Condon for anyone else. Perhaps that’s why I liked listening to them while it rained. The sound resonates perfectly with the hollow intrigue of heavy rainfall, the atmosphere like you're inside a cloud. Beirut has eight studio albums including the Flying Club Cup and a recent release Hadsel, which dropped late last year.

Watch Blogothèque Take Away Shows of Beirut’s songs The Penalty and Nantes, as a great introduction to the band or, for those of you familiar, a side of them you haven’t seen. Here's a Beirut Greatest Hits collection that someone put together on YouTube, another great introduction and tribute to a relatively underappreciated band.

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