Beirut – ‘A Study of Losses’ album review: a mystical voyage into kaleidoscopic ambience
THE SKINNY: By the name Beirut, we’re somewhat accustomed to picturing war-torn horrors and harrowing plights. However, indie folk creative overseer Zach Condon goes some way in readdressing that narrative in the band’s latest album A Study of Losses, developing a cultural reinvigoration that is all at once cohesive but still beguiling. In doing so, the album entices the listener into an enchanting and mystical kaleidoscopic universe that you never want to leave.
That sense of magical theatricality is apt given that the record was commissioned as the soundtrack to Swedish circus company Kompani Giraff’s upcoming show of the same name, inspired by the novel Verzeichnis einiger Verluste by Judith Schalansky. But this might be the least raucous circus show ever known to man, as instead of the typical imagined sound of fairground revelry, A Study of Losses creates a swelling instrumental ambience that instantly puts the senses at ease.
Across a vast 18-track odyssey – encompassing 11 songs and seven orchestral themes – the album certainly packs a lot into its midst. But the true triumph of this is that it never once feels overdone, instead taking you on a journey down a gentle stream before graciously dropping you off at the ethereal final destination. Its universal ambience is the key. When I first started listening, it was a blossoming spring morning, and in the typical fashion of the infamous Scottish weather, it was chucking it down by the time I was done – but all of those seasons felt just right.
The tracks in which Condon takes the vocal helm assume an almost choral quality, with a tone not dissimilar to Bo Burnham but also packing the emotional punch of an artist like Bon Iver. Equally, the instrumental pieces are a soaring sonic symphony that are tantamount to a religious experience. I’m going to start a campaign for Beirut to stage A Study of Losses in a cathedral rather than a circus – because the only answer to this luxurious bath of sonics is a spiritual reckoning.
For fans of: Going on sunset drives and pretending you’re the main character in some devastating coming-of-age movie.
A concluding comment from Hozier: “Take me to church!”
A Study of Losses track by track:
Release date: April 18th | Producer: Zach Condon | Label: Pompeii Records
‘Disappearances and Losses’: I can’t lie, it took me three listens to realise this song is just the same four-chord sequence being played on repeat for two-and-a-half minutes. But that’s not an indictment – it speaks to the power and enthrallment of the rest of the record when it’s able to pull you in from its very first note. [4/5]
‘Forest Encyclopedia’: The album’s first lyrical tune from Cordon is a sure-footed, ethereal effort that certainly embeds you in the heart of the forest. Its bongo backing beat, however, is just ever so slightly off-putting against its swelling choral vocals. [3/5]
‘Oceanus Procellarum’: Because I am not an astronomer, Google has helpfully informed me that the Oceanus Procellarum is a dark lunar mare on the western edge of the moon – basically, it’s a big crater that lava flows into. That image is fitting as the piece feels like a swell of string power, oozing with a rich sense of decadent indulgence. [4.5/5]
‘Villa Sacchetti’: This is perhaps the closest model you’ll get for a modern iteration of a traditional folk song, yet its simple but rousing melodies provide a much-needed warmth, whether it’s the first gentle hints of sun on a spring morning or a hearty roaring fire on a winter’s night. [4/5]
‘Mare Crisium’: It’s easy to feel alienated by all this terminology – the Mare Crisium, like the Oceanus Procellarum, is another basaltic plane on the moon – so let’s put this in more familiar territory. The instrumentation is a rising ripple of romantic excitement; imagine that heart-stopping moment when Romeo first lays eyes on Juliet, and you get the vibe. [4.5/5]
‘Garbo’s Face’: A little more of a traditional circus vibe is matched with a flick of Spanish continental flair, before we are met with Cordon’s choir vocals once more. Is it very slightly repetitive? Possibly, but still enjoyable nonetheless. [3/5]
‘Mare Imbrium’: You guessed it, we’re back on about the moon. This motif of space-based interludes is interesting, however, as the pieces give the album a majestic axis around which its planet never stops spinning. [4/5]
‘Tuanaki Atoll’: Suddenly, it’s a July evening and I’m on the Costa del Sol coastline with a cocktail in hand… or maybe not quite yet, but this song certainly lets those dreams take flight with an easy, swinging beat matching the sun-soaked, relaxed mood. [4/5]
‘Mare Serinitatis’: The moon motif is back in full swing, but rather than offend anyone more with my terrible knowledge of the planets, I’m going to say this piece embodies the vibe of the quiet middle ground in the small hours of the morning, as the moon begins to descend and the sun begins to rise, and the two are, for a small time, existing harmoniously together. [4.5/5]
‘Guericke’s Unicorn’: With a lightly technologically infused beat, we now branch for mystical moons into fantastical lands, as the name of the song suggests. Condon sings the line “How does this thing make any sense?”, which it doesn’t really, but you’re happy enough just going along for the swirling ride. [3.5/5]
‘Mare Humorum’: The first of the ‘Mare’ pieces that Condon lends his vocals to, this feels more like an incantation or a prayer than a song, giving the album that true spiritual presence from somewhere out there in the ether. One of those songs that just quenches your thirst for emotion and makes you feel like you can conquer the world. [5/5]
‘Sappho’s Poems’: Another incantation-style tune, this time in lyrical form, but given we’ve just had a huge rousing instrumental, another – admittedly still gorgeous – epic odyssey straight off the back, dare I say it, just feels a little too heavy going all at once. [3.5/5]
‘Ghost Train’: The album’s most electronic effort, it does give the impression that Beirut are maybe getting a bit too over-excited in their sonic explorations. Ranging from Spanish islands to nymph fantasy universes to the moon, and now going for an alien landing, this song could easily be cut from the arc of the record as it’s possibly just trying to achieve too much. [2/5]
‘Caspian Tiger’: Although Condon’s choral vocal suite are perhaps the tiniest bit overused at other points on the album, he does deserve credit for the pure but deep and devastating melancholy that its tone brings to the record as a whole, and especially in a song like this, which isn’t recognised enough in the current musical landscape. [4/5]
‘Mani’s 7 books’: Even though they’re seemingly poles apart, the sonics on this tune oddly remind me of something like ‘Beautiful Day’ by U2, at least in a sense of vibes. It’s like escaping the walls of the inner city to suddenly find yourself running free in the great outdoors. [4/5]
‘The Moonwalker’: This is almost like the album’s lullaby, set to send us off into slumber as the record finally begins to take sight of the finish line. Gentle acoustics follow the expected blueprint that has been established, but with the addition of some swelling accordion to fill out the mix, lazy evenings taking a stroll along the Paris riverbank are calling. [3.5/5]
‘Mare Nectaris’: Again, we’re venturing into the land of expansive technological horizons, which would be fine if the album had concentrated on this as a more consistent theme, but as things stand, does this just feel like a filler track? Pretty much. [2/5]
‘Mare Tranquillitatis’: Soft plucking acoustics paired with Condon’s gentle timbre round out the album beautifully with what has always been at its heart – tranquillity. It’s the operative word as A Study of Losses is not about being showy or boasting any massive level of grand production; it’s a simple, caressing touch or a tender warmth, set to enrapture you into a faraway world. [5/5]
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