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Beirut's eclectic style should continue to satisfy fans

Not just the name of Lebanon's capital, Beirut is also the name of a band known for its Eastern-bloc brass and gypsy-like rhythms. And amid all of these cross-cultural references is Beirut's august creator, Zach Condon. Only 21 years old, Condon is an Albuquerque native and recently released his second LP The Flying Club Cup.

Just two minutes shy of 40, Club Cup remains in the vein of Condon's trademark style with heavy brass and 3/4 time. But before he crafted gypsy waltzes, Condon traveled a trail of standard indie pop that has been compared to Tom Waits or Rufus Wainwright. The switch to his Balkan-esque style occurred after a trip to Eastern Europe and a meeting with a Serbian national who happened to blast Balkan brass from his nearby apartment.

Though he may not be entirely respected for his current style, which some critics have debunked as inauthentic, he must surely be respected for his musical abilities: Condon can play nine instruments including the accordion, ukulele and the mandolin, all of which are included on the LP.

For the majority of the album, Condon sticks with his Balkan-inspired melodies and layered brass. "Cliquot," "A Sunday Smile" and "Guyamas Sonora" all temper their syncopated percussive backbeats with melodic-keyed brass and Condon's scratchy melancholy vocals. Also present among the syncopation is the more prominent waltz tempo, which recycles the background melodies, adding to the movement of the songs. As in his two past works, the combination produces a driving progression of lusciously textured music. Interspersed among these tracks are short instrumental vignettes that prominently feature the piano and the trumpet, further crafting the sense that you were transported to Sarajevo -- or someplace with gulags and industrial soot.

Not all of Club Cup's tracks, however, will whisk you away to a former Soviet satellite. Mid-album number "The Penalty," has a more subdued musical façade. Gone is the brass, and all that is left are Condon's pared-down vocals, a ukulele and an accordion.

While wholly satisfying as a cohesive work, only a handful of tracks stand out as gems on Club Cup. And while Condon's style is interesting with its textured morose quality, you kind of wish he would leave the Eastern bloc. Clearly, he's musically gifted and as such has the potential for musical evolution, which is not being tapped into; if he could only evolve those gypsy waltzes, the results, I'm sure, would be seminal.

That being said, Condon's newest will be enough to keep his old fans and gain some new ones, but it won't be enough to send his critics packing. This raises an interesting question: Is their criticism well-founded or simply nit picky? What exactly does authenticity mean in terms of creativity and artistic merit? And is this debate really more of a statement that, while his style is original, it's not the first of its kind in the indie world? Music is supposed to be creative regardless of the fact that a 21-year-old from New Mexico can create something that sounds like it should be played on a radio in Serbia. In the current indie atmosphere, where the term has come to connote a certain style, the brooding polkaed waltzes and layered brass of Beirut's The Flying Club Cup are a welcome and refreshing aural change.

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