Though
Arcade Fire
stated that the titular pachyderm in question refers to "Ironic process theory" -- the paradox that occurs when one tries so hard to squash a thought that it becomes the only thing they can think about --
Pink Elephant
could just as easily refer to the elephant in the room as it pertains to the 2022 scandal wherein
Win Butler
had a handful of misconduct allegations levied against him (which were denied). The years following that fallout directly inform this tumultuous and deeply personal record. Subdued, synth-heavy, and very moody -- three of the ten songs are instrumentals -- it's the sound of relationship counseling (and public relations repair) playing out for listeners' ears, for better or worse. The band's typical brand of sonic catharsis is there, for sure, but it seems to be more of a necessary process for
Win
and wife
Regine Chassagne
alone and not the fans, who may not have moved beyond the accusations and their overall implications. All that is fine enough, but it's an unavoidable issue that may make this the most divisive
album to date. Listeners are both the targets and witnesses to the assumed mending of a relationship marred by a betrayal where there's a lot of explaining but not much apologizing. The epic orchestrations of "Open Your Heart or Die Trying" introduce the pensive, post-punk title track, which sets the stage for "Year of the Snake." Named after the animal of the lunar cycle at the time of release, it serves a double purpose as a symbol of renewal from the shedding of the skin. It's a slow burn that ends up capturing the band's classic melodramatic-build-and-crashing-release attack of old. The too-on-the-nose "Circle of Trust" -- also the name of the band's exclusive album tie-in app -- injects some energy to the mix, employing synths and a throbbing pulse to kickstart the album's heart. That carries into "Alien Nation" -- which sounds like a
Reflektor
orphan in the best way possible -- before fizzling back out again with the next instrumental interlude "Beyond Salvation" and the sparse, lovelorn "Ride or Die." One can really hear
Butler
working to win his way back into
Chassagne
's good graces, and that sentiment washes over the entirety of Side B, with the tender "I Love Her Shadow" really driving the "I'm sorry, please forgive me!" point home.
feels like an album
"had to" make, one that addresses a very public period of the band's history without getting too deep (or deep enough at all) into the matter, like they just want everyone to forget about it and move on to the inevitable next album cycle. ~ Neil Z. Yeung