Beirut
The Flying Club Cup

THE REVIEW

Just a year after the previous "Gulag Orkestar," Zach Condon releases the second chapter of the Beirut saga: "The Flying Club Cup." The album's title is derived from a Parisian balloon festival of the early '900s, with France (and Paris) not just influencing the title but also the sound of the record (a concept about France?), which partially abandons the Balkan sounds of the debut.

After the initial call to arms, "Nantes" begins, immediately immersing us in the mood of the album, both for the title and for the use of a dialogue taken from Jean Renoir's film "La Bête Humaine" (cinematic adaptation of the novel by Emile Zola). With "Guyamas Sonora," we return to the Balkan arrangements (influenced by Goran Bregovic) of "Gulag Orkestar," but already "Le Banlieu" with its sullen melancholy brings us back to the atmospheres we had encountered before. In the minimal "The Penalty," the ukulele takes center stage, more prominent than in the previous work. The piano around which "In The Mausoleum" is centered owes much to Sufjan Stevens' "Illinoise," but the final result seems less grandiose compared to Mr. Stevens' baroque-pop.

The final tracks of the album (notably "Cherbourg") give the impression of being fillers or at least poorly developed ideas, which lowers the value of an album that until then had moved on medium-high levels. Perhaps it is precisely the slightly long duration that is the only flaw of what could otherwise have been an excellent record, a record without stylistic falls.