First, I love this band.

Arcade Fire’s seventh studio album, “Pink Elephant”, arrives as a reckoning and a reinvention. They are my favorite Canadian band – one of my favorite bands.

This marks the band’s first major release. It comes after frontman Win Butler faced accusations of sexual misconduct by multiple individuals in 2022. He has denied these allegations, while acknowledging extramarital relationships. The album does not explicitly tackle these events. Still, their shadow looms over the album’s tone. This is clear with titles like Open Your Heart or Die Trying, Circle of Trust, Beyond Salvation… At just over 42 minutes, three of the ten tracks are relatively short instrumentals. The album contrasts with the band’s grandiose earlier releases, like “The Suburbs”, “Neon Bible,” or “Reflektor.”

“Pink Elephant” is their first album since Will Butler, Win’s brother, left the group after recording “WE” in 2022. I think his departure made a difference; sadly, it did.

With just seven sung tracks on “Pink Elephant”, this isn’t a triumphant return.

The album “Pink Elephant” uses its title track as a metaphor for a significant yet unspoken issue — unresolved tension. Butler highlights emotional vulnerability in Pink Elephant with lines like, “You’re always nervous with the real thing. Mind is changing like a mood ring.” The chorus, “Take your mind off me a little while,” becomes a poignant plea.

The album features a stripped-back musical style, with an occasional burst of synth and percussion. Still, it primarily emphasizes atmosphere over anthems. Year of the Snake is one of the most successful style and substance blends. In this track, Butler and his wife, Régine Chassagne, sing, “It’s the Year of the Snake. So let your heart break,” over a smooth, serpentine groove. The song is filled with tension while remaining hypnotically restrained. They consider, “In the Year of the Rabbit, I picked up the habit of waiting on you.”

You hear this song, watch the music video, and, after Pink Elephant, kind of get the feeling this isn’t an Arcade Fire album but one maybe between Win and Régine. It carries on.

Other moments embrace more traditional structures. Circle of Trust opens with a muted synth riff and gradually intensifies. The duo sing together: “Watching you dancing. It could be us. Inside the circle of trust”.

Alien Nation takes a bold approach by blending spoken word with jittery electronics. Its key line, “Broadcasting from an alien nation. Lost in translation, seeking salvation,” strives for social commentary but often feels confusing. Nonetheless, it highlights the album’s inner exile and longing themes.

Ride or Die is meant to be a heartfelt anthem of unwavering commitment. The chorus — “You and I, you and I. Ride or die, ride or die. If the boys are looking for a fight,” — captures a sense of unity and readiness to face challenges together. The verses paint vivid imagery of shared dreams and aspirations: “I can take you anywhere. Wind is blowing back your hair. I could work a 9 to 5. You could be a waitress”. It offers a poignant reflection on partnership, highlighting the adventures it entails. Unfortunately, the song is boring.

Which brings us to I Love Her Shadow. It is a surprisingly buoyant and poppy track. It is nestled within the album’s more introspective terrain. The track evokes the charm of early 2000s indie-pop with a breezy rhythm and shimmering synth flourishes. Butler confesses, “I love her shadow. And I love her light. We’re breaking into heaven tonight.” There’s a coy romanticism here. It is a dance between admiration and distance. The melody expresses this feeling and feels almost too light for the topic matter. Yet that contradiction is part of its appeal. It is my favorite track on the album.

Closing “Pink Elephant,” Stuck in My Head is an emotional track filled with rage. It encapsulates the album’s themes of introspection and turmoil. The song opens with the lines: “It’s a mess in my bedroom, mess in my car. Mess in my head, mess in my heart.” These lyrics set the tone for a narrative filled with personal chaos. There is also emotional disarray, and the chorus emphasizes this feeling.

It uses a repetitive mantra: “Stuck in my head, stuck in my head, stuck in my head”. Musically, the track builds gradually, layering instrumentation to mirror the escalating intensity of the lyrics. The bridge offers a glimpse into the protagonist’s yearning for redemption:

“I’ll clean up this bedroom, clean up this head. Clean up this car, clean up this heart.”

The song culminates in a cathartic release, with Butler exclaiming: “Get the fuck out of bed!” – a personal wake-up call and a universal plea for action midst stagnation.

Conclusion

Butler, Chassagne, and Daniel Lanois handled the production for “Pink Elephant”. Gone are the multi-instrumental flourishes and orchestral crescendos that once defined Arcade Fire’s sound. There is just a sense of sonic space and sparseness. Guitars chime gently, synths pulse like distant signals, and percussion is often felt more than heard. It’s a record that values tone over tempo and mood over immediacy. As mentioned earlier, it almost sounds like a Win and Régine side project.

“Pink Elephant” holds a complicated place in the Arcade Fire discography. It doesn’t mark a bold new direction or a return to form, but is perhaps a transitional work. The band appears to be in a state of change, searching for an authentic voice after facing scrutiny. It comes across as a tentative and vulnerable offering, steeped in quiet, wounded reflection, and cautious optimism.

In its best moments, “Pink Elephant” doesn’t try to be Arcade Fire’s follow-up to their great statement. Instead, it’s a whispered apology, a tentative hand reaching out.

It’s a band trying to remember how to be a band again.

I hope they get there.

Favorites: I Love Her Shadow, Stuck in my Head, Year of the Snake

Least Favorites: Alien Nation, the 3 instrumentals, Ride or Die

Chris Garrod, May 16, 2025

7/10

(Twenty years ago, with David Bowie, who loved Arcade Fire)