Learning to say yes: Beirut

It could be the jetlag or his allergy to nearby plants, but Zach Condon looks like he’s about to sob. The Santa Fe-bred leader of Beirut is recounting years’ worth of writer’s block, dead ends and a recurring premonition that “maybe my mind had broken.” It’s something he’ll have to recount countless more times too, because that’s half of the story behind ‘No No No’, an album that fights familiarity and arrived after Condon felt close to giving up entirely.

The other side of the story is one of island hopping, productive studio sessions and pivotal breakthrough. But back to the bad stuff. As a title, ‘No No No’ gives the impression of someone banging their head against a wall, getting nowhere fast. “It’s that image exactly,” confirms Condon. “I was repeating myself. It felt like I was writing ‘The Riptide’ all over again. We kept going on tour and I’d be trying to do vocals for these big instrumentals we recorded. And it just got really daunting. And that’s when I was banging my head against the wall. I literally thought I was done for, as far as career and abilities. So I had to throw it all away,” he says. “I’m glad that I did.”

For almost a decade, Condon has been at the wheel of Beirut, seeing the bedroom-based project fledge into something gigantic. The band’s sweeping, exotic take on pop sounds instantly familiar, whatever the record. Horn sections lead the chase, while Condon’s baritone vocal tells stories of faraway trips and fleeting romances. But it’s familiarity that he began to fight against. “I’m aware of all the faults in lyrics and my voice - it becomes more apparent and it fills you with dread. I’m a cynical, judgemental person when it comes down to it. And it’s not fun.”