For fans of
TV on the Radio, LCD Soundsystem, Talking Heads
Singles to download
‘Reflektor,’ ‘Here Comes the Night Time,’ ‘Afterlife’

Six years ago, Sasha Frere-Jones of The New Yorker presented the much-discussed argument that rock had lost its sense of groove. Since then, rock has become decidedly more rhythmic, with indie stalwarts such as TV on the Radio, Radiohead and Sufjan Stevens releasing dance-friendly albums. Not to be outdone, Arcade Fire has responded to this shift with “Reflektor,” a synth-pop/disco hybrid that proves, once and for all, indie can groove.

For its first three albums, Arcade Fire was the standard-bearer for anthemic indie rock. With wailing strings, shout-along choruses and towering crescendos, Arcade Fire created a template for countless lesser bands that would mistake their earnestness for unbridled enthusiasm. But what the Edward Sharpes and Mumford & Sons missed was the undercurrent of emotional turmoil that lies at the heart of Arcade Fire’s best songs. Even “Wake Up,” famous for its seemingly triumphant “woah-ohs,” is ultimately imbued with desperation and resignation. But there was still hope behind all that sadness, hope that the next generation wouldn’t lose its souls.

It was that balance: between submission to life’s cruel realities and the stubborn hope that it could break the mold that endeared Arcade Fire to so many, myself included. The band made you feel because the band members couldn’t help but pour their souls into every note. If detached irony was cool, then they were decidedly uncool, pied pipers for the misfits and weirdos.

But with its shocking Album of the Year win for “The Suburbs” at the 2011 Grammys, Arcade Fire became more than outre icons. The members of the band were now honest-to-goodness rock stars in an era that didn’t produce them anymore. Against all odds, it proved that highly personal songwriting could still prevail in a sanitized pop landscape. Arcade Fire was on top of the world, free to follow its muses to the ends of the Earth.

While few would have predicted “Reflektor”’s eminent danceability a year ago, it’s not without precedent. Perhaps the most buzzed-about track from the “The Suburbs,” the ’80s synth-pop homage “Sprawl II,” was a notable departure from Arcade Fire’s baroque style, a neon-colored paean to the virtues of personal expression laced with the endearingly synthetic tones of new wave. There was an innocence about it that was lacking in the pearly sheen of contemporary pop, all the better to convey the song’s joyous celebration of individuality. After becoming the poster children for indie culture, Arcade Fire was determined to prove it couldn’t be pigeonholed. A little alt-country here, a dash of garage rock there, “The Suburbs” presented Arcade Fire as a band unwilling to succumb to the dangers of creative stasis.

But there was something just slightly amiss about “Sprawl II.” Enjoyable as it may be, I couldn’t shake the sense that it was something of a test run of the new Arcade Fire.

And how wonderfully right I was. “Reflektor” is an absolute delight in every sense. Pulsating with a vibrancy unmatched by any other release I’ve heard this year, it’s a pure distillation of musical joy. Every melodic phrase, every syncopated rhythm, seems calibrated for maximum pleasure. Unlike the stifling self-seriousness of Daft Punk’s grossly overrated “Random Access Memories,” “Reflektor” actually manages to bring life back to music, facilitating a 75-minute endorphin rush only a heartless crank could deny.

Though rhythm has largely been relegated to a supporting role on previous Arcade Fire albums, it’s finally given the chance to take center stage on “Reflektor.” The fluidity of these grooves is unprecedented when considering the melodic and harmonic focus of Arcade Fire’s first three releases. These songs can slink or strut depending on the occasion, providing for a rhythmic variety unseen in much of the rock landscape. Like Radiohead’s 2011 album, “The King of Limbs,” this is dance music for a more cerebral crowd, the kind that isn’t satisfied with the tinny Eurotrash synths around which mainstream EDM is built. Arcade Fire understands that the best dance music needs sturdy rhythms, and “Reflektor” resonates with a litany of satisfying thumps and kicks. These are songs aimed at the head and the hips, providing both cerebral and primal satisfaction.

If this is Arcade Fire’s grooviest album, then it’s also its loosest. The wiry riffs of “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” and “Intervention”’s stern organs are replaced by infectious, plinking pianos and shimmering synths. For his part, co-producer James Murphy (of the late, great dance-punk act LCD Soundsystem) lends his mastery of sustained momentum to the sprawling song lengths. Though many of these songs stretch well past the five-minute mark, they don’t feel it. A heavy dose of melodic and rhythmic repetition, interspersed with strategic disruption, provides for both a heft and nimbleness that keep these songs from dragging. “Reflektor” may lack the boldface declarations of purpose of Arcade Fire’s earlier work, but in abandoning exclamation points, Arcade Fire has created a more inviting, immersive experience. It doesn’t hurt that the crystal-clear production renders every sonic detail in high definition. “Reflektor” often seems to stretch beyond your headphones, creating ample room to explore its vast sonic space.

But lest you think Arcade Fire has abandoned the hallmarks that endeared it to the Internet generation, rest assured in knowing the band has maintained many of its best qualities. Arcade Fire’s knack for exuberant choruses and heart-on-sleeve earnestness create a strong emotional core around which it can drift in unexpected directions. Additionally, the band’s utilitarian spirit allows each member the chance to make essential contributions to “Reflektor”’s full-bodied sound. Arcade Fire has always been a band in the most literal sense, with interchangeable parts that defy easy categorization. While lead singer Win Butler’s contributions are inherently the easiest to pinpoint, he still functions primarily as a ringleader around whom the band’s other members can rally.

Arcade Fire’s preoccupation with big ideas also courses through this album’s veins. As always, the band grapples with what makes us human—fear of isolation, existential crises, individuality, religion, spirituality—with its typical poignancy. If the lyrics aren’t exactly uplifting, they’re inspiring in their fearless ambition. Even if life’s great questions don’t have answers, they’re still worth asking.

Just when we thought we had Arcade Fire pegged, it turns into the 21st century’s best disco act, at once drawing on previous generations and hurtling headfirst into the future. At this point, it has no peers in indie rock, just reflections of its brilliance. If “Reflektor” doesn’t make Frere-Jones happy, I don’t know what will.