I HAVE become a little nervous when a new Arcade Fire record appears. The Canadian indie rock outfit have, sadly, lost their way with their previous two records, We and Everything Now. Allegations of sexual misconduct against the frontman, Win Butler (which he denies), have not helped (his wife, Regine Chassagne, is also in the band); nor has the departure of Will Butler, his brother, in 2021.

Their debut album, Funeral, written about the deaths of their friend’s parents, was certainly original, if not a commercial success. But the anthemic “Wake Up” alerted a new audience to their emerging prowess. Then the sweet dark treacle of Neon Bible: “Working for the church while your life falls apart Singin’ hallelujah with the fear in your heart”. Plus references to throwing the first stone, the lion and the lamb not sleeping yet, and a whole song about the Antichrist. There aren’t too many rock singers who studied theology at college. This was quirky, definitely non-mainstream and breathtaking, conceptually, lyrically, and musically.

Then, with The Suburbs, they decide to share their Texas upbringing with the world. That unassuming honky-tonk piano intro soon descends into the abyss of alienation and anonymity generated by the suburban sprawl. It also had the throwaway line: “You never trust a millionaire Quoting the sermon on the mount”. The deluxe version included “Speaking in Tongues”: “You’ve got the spirit now. . .”

The eccentricity, the independent mind, the counter-cultural stance, speaking about God in public — Radiohead was probably the closest benchmark. There was a refreshing humility, too. When they headlined the Reading Festival in 2010, Win Butler practically apologised for not having any hit singles and hoped that the audience would enjoy the songs. I don’t think it was false modesty. In fact, who could fail to be impressed by their live performances — the sheer wild abandon of it all? Speaking in tongues, indeed.

Reflektor was the final shout. The title song asked the question: “Will I see you on the other side? We’ve all got things to hide. . . Thought you were praying to the resurrector Turns out it was just a reflektor.”

Pink Elephant was produced by Daniel Lanois, who has done excellent work with Dylan and U2. “Alien Nation” examines the fragmentation of society, the loss of trust, the reliance on technology: “Sing with the congregation. . . We’re way beyond salvation. . . For the prophet’s spoken Put all your hopes and all your dreams In the machine And the machine is broken.” There’s imagery about an archangel, Michael, not to mention a fallen “angel”, Icarus: “The archangel Michael is blowing up your phone He wants to know where you are And when you’re coming home” (”Circle of Trust”).

But there are hopeful themes of transformation and renewal, which align to the passion and spirit of the band. “Year of the Snake” proposes personal transition: ‘So do what is true Don’t do what you should It’s the season of change If you feel strange It’s probably good”, ending with the request: “You ain’t gotta be fake It’s the year of the snake So let your heart break.” The character in the final song, “Stuck in my Head”, wants to “Sleep on the floor To be close to God”, as everything in their life is in chaos. The challenge is explicit: “Clean up your heart You’re missing the best part.” These songs have certainly helped calm the nerves in preparation for their next record. Let’s see.