Zach Condon’s musical odyssey has previously taken the New Mexico singer-songwriter from brassy Balkan folk to French and Hispanic music. Along the way, he’s made albums everywhere from his teenage bedroom, a log cabin in upstate New York and the Italian town of Gallipoli. His sixth album as Beirut was conceived while he was living in an old wooden church on the Norwegian island of Hadseløya, seeking refuge from self-doubt, mental collapse, a cancelled tour and briefly career-threatening throat problems. He wrote the album on its 19th century wooden organ, informed by what he describes as the “unfathomable beauty” of the snowy mountains and fjords and the “awesome show” of the northern lights.
Accordingly, these dozen tracks have a pure, hymnal quality. Rather than sounding bleak or dark you can hear the healing process under way. With Condon’s warm croon sounding like David Byrne at Sunday service (no voice problems here), the organ is augmented by synthesiser, french horn, trumpet, drum machines and shakers, playful arrangements and overwhelmingly positive sentiments. So Many Plans most obviously ponders the pandemic during which Condon started writing: “We had so many friends / Maybe we’ll see them again.” However, the likes of Island Life and January 18th are joyous earworms and the sublime The Tern triumphantly concludes “It’s not too late to find where you are.”
