Gallipoli

The fifth album by Beirut, the musical vehicle of indie songsmith and world music enthusiast Zach Condon, certainly occupies an interesting sound-world. Bold fanfares of mariachi-esque brass bestride buoyant piano and ukulele atop murky but propulsive percussion – mostly courtesy of the Farfisa organ that regularly pokes through in pleasing retro fashion. Possessed of a boyish yet lugubrious voice, Condon's elongated, crooning vocal lines recall Morrissey or Edwyn Collins, though perhaps it's his professed love of Francophone chansonniers Yves Montand and Jacques Brel showing through.

Condon is demonstrably a fantastic arranger and can come up with some truly arresting sounds. The trouble is, these songs tend to start in epic, dramatic mode and don't really have anywhere else to go, lacking in killer choruses to live up to their settings. ‘Family Curse’ is a notable exception, with a glorious melodic twist towards its end, while two instrumentals also provide delightfully unsettling surprises. ‘On Mainau Island’ has a savagely distorted organ riff and woozy textures that prove Condon could make a great Boards of Canada-style electronica album if he wanted to. ‘Corfu’ commands listener attention from start to increasingly disturbing finish, bringing to mind some of the paranoia-tinged exotica Brian Wilson brought to his trippiest Beach Boys music.