Product Description

For the past year, Beirut has alternated between touring in support of 2007's much-lauded The Flying Club Cup and writing a wealth of new material. With no sense of a release in mind, bandleader Zach Condon recorded in any style that struck his fancy. Some early discussions about recording material for a film being shot in Mexico morphed into a new idea: What about finding a local band in a small city in Mexico, hiring them to play some new material, and recording the result?

It was a sincere challenge every step of the way. Condon had to find the band, which he did through a bandmate's mother who has connections in Oaxaca. To communicate with the performers, he hired a translator, who had to be able to speak English, Spanish, as well as Zapotec, the band members' native language. From there, he flew down to Oaxaca, traveling a half-hour out of town to the tiny weaver village of Teotitlan del Valle, where he met the nineteen members of The Jimenez Band. The ensuing weeks of recording, rewriting, and relating are documented in a series of short films (to be released online as the release date for March of the Zapotec draws near).

All well and good, but the six songs found on March of the Zapotec are only a part of what this release has become. Before recording as Beirut, Condon went by Realpeople for his bedroom recordings, and he has revived the name for the second half in this collection, Holland. As opposed to March of the Zapotec, Holland collects a series of songs conceived and completed at home. One song, Venice, appeared on a compilation by The Believer magazine, while My Night with the Prostitute from Marseille was on the Big Change digital-only charity compilation on iTunes.

Together, this album-length double release represents the totality of Condon's work over the past year. March of the Zapotec is further testament toward the inventiveness and intimacy he creates as Beirut, a band which started as one person sounding like twelve, and has developed into a particular style and sound. No matter what inspirations jumpstart any one particular song, underlying it all is the realization that Condon is a singular artist creating an original sound. What may appear at first to be two disparate paths are in reality joined by Condon's ability to craft simple melodies that sound both unique and unforgettable. It would be a misconception for Beirut's sound to be considered a dabble in various styles, folk sounds, and music histories, because one could never confuse Condon's music for the original inspiration; all his songs on this release carry more in common with each other than they do their original source of inspiration. And whether he's being inspired by Balkan folk, French chanteuse, Mexican troubadour, '80s synth pop, or '90s house, the common thread remains Condon's ability to personalize the sound.

March of the Zapotec marks the continuing emergence of a musician who has only shown an inkling of where he is headed. And while the road may be long, every stop along the way invites a new experience. Enjoy the latest.

Track Listing

Disc 1:

1. El Zocalo
2. La Llorona
3. My Wife
4. The Akara
5. On a Bayonet
6. The Shrew

Disc 2:

1. My Night with the Prostitute from Marseille
2. My Wife, Lost in the Wild
3. Venice
4. The Concubine
5. No Dice

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #6583 in Music
• Brand: Dig
• Released on: 2009-02-17
• Number of discs: 2
• Dimensions: .24 pounds

Customer Reviews

A mixed bag. It is a grower.
First of all, it is not an album but two EPs joined together.
Maybe it is not exactly what you might have come to expect from this enviably talented young American artist.
The first half features a Mexican funeral band and delivers oompah-ish brass and a strong dose of mariachi horns (featuring real Mexicans!).
"It's a charmingly woozy picturesque postcard Mexico: full of inconsolably grieving mothers, carnivalesque town squares, bitter wives and death by bayonet"... like Jason Schwartzman in the "Darjeeling Limited", traveling across India, but seemingly locked within the world of "Where Do You To My Lovely?", the fixed-point at the heart of it all remains Condon's richly romantic, melancholy croon". - Uncut
The second EP, "Holland", recorded by Condon under the moniker Realpeople (an early pre-Beirut alias) was recorded at home but seems like a great, reveals his more sombre Seventies synth side, featuring entirely unrelated, gently synthesized beats and keyboards and is significantly more successful.
Two of the tracks from Holland have surfaced prior to this release - "My Night With The Prostitute From Marseille" appeared on a digitally released charity affair while "Venice" featured on a compilation given away by uber-hip US monthly "The Believer".
"Venice" has a ghostly beauty, which makes you wish that Condon had fleshed out this group of songs into a whole album.
And then there is the oddly uninspired, bizarre, inconsequential Euro-pop of "No Dice", upon which this collection unfortunately closes, which disappoints.
This is a little weird, but it certainly shows a different aspect of Zach's musical personality and talent.
It's happy, sad, intriguing and different.
After repeated listenings, it will grow on you.
And you will come to like it.
The Flying Club Cup

6 of 10 critics liked March of the Zapotec/Holland
I've read 10 reviews of this album, 6 critics liked it, 4 didn't. Below is my attempt at aggregating all those reviews.

This album is actually a double EP. The other EP is Realpeople's (Zach Condon's pre-Beirut name) Holland.

Zach Condon (leader of Beirut) is starting to come across as a musical tourist. He goes someplace new, soaks in some music, becomes inspired and then writes his own music. March of the Zapotec was born from Condon's trip to Oaxaca Mexico where he heard some Mexican funeral music and ended up recording six songs with a local 19-piece band.

Holland on the other hand is some lo-fi electronica that drew comparisons to the Magnetic Fields and Boards of Canada.

The element that holds these two EPs together is Condon's voice. It's amazing. And strangely almost always described as a "croon", but whatever. Ultimately, it's solid work from an amazingly talented singer/musician. It could use a little more focus on writing songs instead of creating atmosphere. Also the critics who didn't like the EPs thought that it was uneven. And I get the feeling critics will really start ripping him if he doesn't settle on a style sooner or later.

The waves in your eyes
For the record, "March of the Zapotec/Holland" is not an album. It's two EPs.

For that matter, it's not really Beirut as you know it -- apparently Zach Condon has been going to Mexico and diddling around with some electronic instrumentation. Not many artists could smoosh together Eastern European rhythms with Latin instrumentation, and then top it off with a dash of the Postal Service. But fortunately Condon pulls it off.

Apparently "March of the Zapotec" was influenced by a recent trip to Oaxaca, and as a result the gypsyish flavour of the music is tinged with some Latin colour. After the styles clash in the opening "Zocalo," Condon's band sways into the languid brassy "La Llorona," and the gloriously Spanish-flavoured "My Wife."

After that, it's into the melancholy trumpets and dancy grandeur of "The Akara" ("So long to these kite strings/so long since I've been saved... tasting more, wasting more..."), and the twisting meandering "On A Bayonet," which sounds like an excuse to exercise the horns. And the first part finishes with "The Shrew," a more sprightly little tune that wouldn't sound out of place on a Decemberists album.

But wait, there's more!

On the other hand, "Holland" is done under Condon's pseudonym "Realpeople," and it's pretty obvious why -- he's going into Postal Service territory. "My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille" is a sparkling peppy little electronic number, but it manages to retain the warmth of Condon's other work. That electronic vein runs through the rest of the album -- darting trip-hop waves over soaring vocals, a couple gypsyish melodies tied up in thin threads of electronica. Only "No Dice" goes too far with the electronic thing, sacrificing melody for the funky techno explorations.

After diddling around European-inspired pop for a couple albums, Beirut's sound is starting to branch out into unexplored territory.Given that it's almost completely made up of experimental stuff, "March of the Zapotec/Holland" is a pretty enjoyable little collection of songs, and Condon manages to pull it off with rare style, and hints at other directions where he may go in future musical journeys.

He uses the usual array of Eastern European instrumentation here -- drums, mournful horns, rattling cans, accordion, some strings -- and the same sense of melancholy suffuses his songs. But the collaboration of the Jimenez Band gives it a spicier sound and a sprightlier pace, although his explorations of the electronic soundscape sometimes go over the top. They're at the best when they complement the acoustics (as in "My Night With the Prostitute..."), not replace them.

Condon's voice is that of a young man looking out at the world after his second or third excursion into it -- experienced, yet able to appreciate its wonders. And his rich rolling voice are well suited to the lyrics ("And now outside/I see your eyes meet the sky/and I, I won't lie/I kept you here tonight... and I believed her then").

Beirut's double EP dabbles around in Latin music and electronica, and for the most part, "March of the Zapotec/Holland" gets it very, very right.