Arcade Fire: On controversial marketing campaigns and legendary Irish appearances

There is probably some unprovable theorem connecting the level of a band’s popularity to the number of doors you have to get through to – however briefly – bask in their presence. I had to go through a lot of doors, but then Arcade Fire are a very popular band indeed.

In between a soundcheck and what proves to be a knockout gig in the 3Arena, your correspondent is squeezed in for a brief word with second banana, Will Butler. Straight down to business then, I inquire after the band’s latest album, last year’s Everything Now, a further step towards the dancefloor and away from the more straightforward epic indie of old. LCD Soundsystem main man James Murphy helped steer their predecessor, 2013’s Reflektor, but this time around Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter is behind the desk. “They’re really just people that we relate to artistically,” says Butler. “Steve Mackey from Pulp and Geoff Barrow from Portishead are also on this record. They’re people we want in the room – we want their feedback.”

Everything Now was preceded by a marketing campaign based on spoof tweets, fake ads and questionable products from the dummy Everything Now corporation, created with the help of the people behind satirical website, The Onion. The album itself landed to a bit of a mixed critical reaction, so was there a sense that the promotional campaign slightly backfired? “I don’t think it helped,” reflects Will. “The people who write these reviews are embedded online, so they got the full force of every tweet we sent! They were exposed in the way a casual fan might not have been.”

This being the band’s first release after signing to Sony, is attacking a fictional corporation an attempt to have your cake and eat it too? “It was more a case that we all live so much online,” observes Butler. “We all have our iPhones, meaning us in the band, and it was kind of just hi-jinks. There was thought behind it but let’s just have some fun.” The band’s website now offers new employee kits, and even a branded fidget spinner. “They sell!” chuckles Butler. “When I was 17 and super into Radiohead, I got the Christmas seven-inch and that stuff stuck with me.” There’s quite a distance between a seven-inch and a fidget spinner though. “There is!” agrees Butler, who knows what I'm getting at.

The sounds that pop out from the record have echoes of Abba and Blondie, and there are even some new wave reggae influences on the likes of ‘Peter Pan’ and ‘Chemistry’. It’s a long way from Funeral. “Oh yeah, I can hear that, but to me it makes sense as I’ve been on the journey for the last 15 years,” notes Butler. “Before we were a band, we were playing Blondie covers and ‘Chiquitita’ – it’s stuff we’ve been listening to our whole lives. And there are a lot of songs, like ‘Peter Pan’, which are spare and short in a way that we haven’t done before.” Is the aim always to strike out for somewhere new? “We never think about our past work. We go home and try to plug into our homes, our communities and our friends, Then we try to let the songs emerge from that and the music we’re listening to, the shows we’re going to, the news, everything really, and then sift through what comes up.”

‘Money + Love’, a joint video for ‘Put Your Money On Me’ and ‘We Don’t Deserve Love’, extends the corporation conceit. The band are shown hawking the standard consumer fare, before staging a breakout, only to be arrested and forced back to work. Win Butler escapes The Man’s clutches, but eventually gives himself up and rejoins the band. Is it a case of you can’t beat them, so join them? “I think we can’t, it’s hard from me to separate myself from it but yes, I think that’s part of it.” You have to be part of the machine, so you might as well play with it? “Exactly.”

The notion of “Infinite Content, Infinitely Content” could be a descendant of Radiohead’s ‘Fitter Happier’, a howl at the constant bombardment of the digital age, which has irrevocably altered the way we absorb information. “I grew up on OK Computer, but I think we’re a little less dark than that,” suggests Will. “I might fall asleep listening to a podcast about the history of the English language, hearing about the Proto-Indo-European root of a word. There’s something really beautiful about that bombardment, but something dark too." People now find it that much more difficult to read a book, their attention span has been diminished. "Definitely. I think it’s the constant temptation, even when I’m in the bathroom, I’m flicking my phone before I think to wash my hands!”

The band have always had a special relationship with Ireland, from the legendary 2005 Electric Picnic appearance – your correspondent was actually there, albeit completely by chance – to their Malahide show last year, where Win Butler told the crowd, “You give us so much every time.” What is it about this place? “There’s a real culture of family and community in music that is very close to how we see things. And the first time we played ‘Wake Up’ at Electric Picnic, everyone started roaring it out. I mean that song was never on the radio, never a hit, but it had just percolated through, and there we were playing it, out in the countryside. It was something special.”

Following that Malahide show, Arcade Fire rocked up to Whelan’s for a short acoustic set. It was another Dandelion Market-esque gig – like that Picnic appearance, apparently half-a-million people were there. How did that come about? “I played there on my solo tour and it’s such a great spot,” enthuses Will. “We used to parade out after every show and wander through the streets; you just want to get this human connection.” Was it a spur of the moment thing? “Oh no! You have to book Whelan’s in advance!”

Butler has followed American shows with what he calls his “Disco Town Halls”. This is not, as one might first assume, cockney rhyming slang for a bad place to get a kick. They are in fact small meetings intended to connect local policy makers, activists and music fans, to at least talk about change. “One of the feelings in America when we elected Donald Trump was that we’re not talking to each other,” he says. “But I’m going to every major city and I have the chance to sit and talk with people, and it’s not just some vague idea of bringing the left and right together. We’ve just played ‘Wake Up’, everyone was singing with their arms around each other – so now let’s go talk about your community, let’s get a city councilman in, let’s talk about the prisons in New York or whatever the issue might be. Art and community are real and important things. It’s an after-party so I’m not forcing anybody. We talk about things onstage, but with this it’s, ‘If you want to come and talk, then let’s talk.’ It’s been really powerful.” So there’s hope then? “I think it’s really dark, but it’s not my place to say it’s hopeless,” replies Will. “I can be suspicious but not cynical. I feel hope. You can do a lot of harm with power, and I have a fair bit of power as a rich, white guy in America – but I have the opportunity to learn a bit more, to be less harmful. You might as well do something good.”

Everything Now is everywhere now