It may come as some relief to Zach Condon or not, but the adversity of recent years, the winter solace of Norway and his nomadic approach to working has taken the music of his project Beirut even further. We strongly suggest you join him on the journey…
For most artists who make their living from working in the commercial music business, the job is a continuous cycle of writing, recording, releasing and then touring, album-to-album. The vast majority of artists will claim that touring and performing is where they get the biggest pay off. To play their songs to appreciative audiences, to get better at performing those songs, and to experience that visceral connection with fans. But for Beirut’s Zach Condon, that equation is flipped.
“All I ever really wanted to do is hide in my room and make music. I always knew that the tour (not performing but touring) would be my issue”.
After the fiasco of having to cancel Beirut’s 2019 tour, Condon knew he needed to take the time out to fully recover. Multiple infections, colds and in the end complicated throat ailments had led him to a total burnout, until finally:
“My manager and my tour manager saved me from myself. They told me I can’t keep touring. I threw in the towel and dissolved the touring group. I later saw the fiasco over refunds and all that, and I felt horrible about it”.
This adversity though, perhaps inevitably, led to Beirut’s latest project Hadsel, which may well be as close as a record can come to being a lifesaver. Hadsel is the album as therapy. Steeped in nature and with a meditative quality to it, it works perfectly as an immersive listen. And it works perfectly too as an expression of where Beirut finds itself as a band (even if on this occasion, Condon did everything himself).
“I was just looking for a cabin but found one with a pump organ so at that point, everything clicked. [this album] is a return to something I can’t put my finger on. But it feels more scrappy and raw somehow”.
If that doesn’t sound like creative progress, don’t worry. If Beirut’s early albums (Gulag Orkestar 2006, The Flying Club Cup, 2007) were unique, and impressive for critics and fans alike, they were essentially the product of Condon’s musical obsessions at the time - Balkan Brass, French Chanson and some mariachi thrown into the mix for good measure. Condon stripped back those styles somewhat on later albums such as The Riptide and No No No. The latter contained a lean set of what you might even call catchy tunes.
Those records were proof that through all the unique stylings, there is a substance to Condon’s work that always comes through. He writes lovely songs with strong melodies. Perhaps in the end, that is why Beirut’s songs have foound their way onto playlists and done relatively well on streaming platforms, especially Spotify.
Zach is both amused and bemused by this at once, not recognising most of the other songs and bands he is juxtaposed with on those playlists (largely in the crudely tagged category of indie). But then his whole career has not been one of following the music industry conventional forms. Instead, Zach has always found an alternative route.
“I’ve always felt that I stood right outside the river. The music industry is this river and it’s always flowing in this direction and there are all these people that are part of it, moving along with it. And I’m outside it, but somehow I've made my living and I’ve found my audience”.
Yet Condon is also very much the modern independent artist (and a label owner via his own imprint Pompeii Records), questioning everything about how the (and why) the traditional industry works in the way that it does. And quite rightly.
Without the ability to tour in the name of promotion, Condon is seeking other ways to connect with his audience. He has recently engaged more with social media. Indeed, a nice idea came from a question on Beirut’s Reddit group, that Zach could write a travel memoir, perhaps in the graphic novel form (I suggest Adrian Tomine might be his ideal collaborator here).
“That has been a direct desire of mine for a while. I feel like the comic book encapsulates how I think very well. Something about the pacing of it and the painting of impressions rather than detailed descriptions. There’s always the nagging imposter syndrome stuff in me that says “am I special enough”.
Surely by now, some two decades into his music career, Condon is no longer needy?
“Early on when people were writing about me online it filled me up…I really needed to know people liked me. But now it feels like a calorie free meal, just a sugar rush and then a crash”. If the fans have stuck around for this long, they might stick around to listen to this album - at least once or twice”.
It seems not, then. Good thing too, since when music is a destiny calling, there’s no point becoming too attached to the outcomes, just focus on the music from project to project and make it as good as it can be. “I didn’t really choose music but as an obsessive - music was a type of possession where everything else disappeared. It was an addiction in many ways and still is”.
It may come as some relief to Zach Condon or not, but the adversity of recent years, the winter solace of Norway, and his nomadic approach to work, has taken Beirut’s music even further.
Hadsel is available and Beirut are soon to do some low key live shows in Berlin