axolotl
Nunquam non paratus
Beirut is the pseudonym of one Zach Condon, a man with a ukelele and a synth. Oh, and a trumpet.
I have loved his music ever since I first didn't want to retrieve his EP Lon Gisland out of my player 12 years ago. Since then, I seem to snap up most of his stuff, at least when priced right. I did buy March of the Zapotecs on vinyl, for what it's worth (or for whatever was on the price tag, but I don't remember). All words that preceded this were to establish my formidable street cred.
It's a bit of a sad situation when an album of this caliber falls to #573 (wait, that was last week; this week it's at #577) for the year on RYM, and Pitchfork virtually neglects one of its darlings. [Well, to be fair, they gave it a 7.7, when some previous works were rated more stratospherically.] Still and all, they did have this to say:
Despite Condon's clear development, The Rip Tide is a defiantly small effort-- the shortest LP in Beirut's catalog (nine songs, clocking in at just over 33 minutes), self-released on Condon's own label, Pompeii. As such, it's a record that's easier to slip by unnoticed than Beirut's two other LPs. (The lack of the previously present heavy affectation contributes to this as well.) However, our own Marc Hogan put it best in his recent Playlist item on "East Harlem"-- you get as much out of Condon's creations as you put time into them, and familiarity eventually becomes its own reward. Near the end of the album's beautifully mournful, penultimate cut "The Peacock", Condon repeats this telling admission into the face of fading horns: "He's the only one who knows the words." His antiquated fantasies still very much belong to him, but it's still a joy to peer inside them-- even if the canvases they're displayed on have shrunk ever so slightly.
All I have to say is, at 33 minutes running time, it wouldn't kill you to listen to it.
POTUS describes it as "perfect."


Thanks for opening my ears, Axo! 
