As a casual Arcade Fire fan and something of a follower of reception to indie albums, I think I’ve picked up the general feelings about the four “Neighborhood” songs that are on the group’s Funeral album. A record that I think I read changed the shape of indie upon its arrival in 2004. ‘#4 (7 Kettles)‘ is the one no one talks about that much. Many people may like it, but it’s not seen as the best. ‘#1 (Tunnels)‘ and ‘#3 (Power Out)‘ are the classics, with the former generally regarded as the better of the two. So that leaves ‘#2 (Laïka)’ as something of the middle child. The dark horse. It’s appreciated, but probably doesn’t get the attention it deserves. In my case, it’s my personal favourite out of all four.

The track tells a story of Alexander, the oldest brother in a family who leaves home, goes out into the world and purposefully erases his memories of his loved ones who still wish him the best out of that unconditional love that comes with being a family. From the perspective of the younger sibling who acts as the narrative voice compares their brother’s disappearance to that of Laika, the dog that was sent into space by the Russians and died while own its own great adventure. It carries on the themes of family and the idea of ‘the neighborhood’ introduced in ‘Tunnels’, but takes a darker turn from that by touching upon abandonment too.

There are just a lot of musical moments that happen here that draw me to it more compared to the other three ‘Neighborhoods’. Coming straight after ‘Tunnels’ which ends on a beautiful, somewhat strident note, ‘Laïka’ sets the tone with an omninous tom-tom driven drum pattern that’s then joined by jangly guitars, I want to say a xylophone (it’s one of those percussive instruments), and that short melody on the accordion that’s pretty much the anchor of the whole song. A double-tracked Win Butler sounds like he’s singing through a megaphone, like he’s some big announcer telling this story to us. The violins in the choruses add this tense urgency and add to the chaos when the vocals become more intense in the “Older brother, bit by a vampire” verse and culminate in a yelling delivery from Régine Chassagne. Overall, it’s one of those tracks where you can pick out new things each time you listen to it. Like those whistles during the ‘police disco lights’ section. What are those all about? Didn’t need to be there, yet I can’t imagine the song without ’em. A non-‘Neighborhood’ track follows this one on the album, and probably for good reason. Those first two really take it out of you.