Beirut: a world of loss and wonder

Finding great music used to be easier. Two decades ago, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Each week brought terrific new bands, artists, and tunes. Record shops [remember them?] were addictive, and many hours were purposefully wasted browsing. Video may have killed the radio star, but streaming has killed bands that take time to nurture and release. Today, when I find a gem, I run around the house naked (except for headphones), immersing myself in hope. OK, maybe not naked, but you get the point.

I recently discovered Beirut and have fallen down a melancholy rabbit hole that is deep, wide, and wonderful.  Beirut is/are helmed by Zach Condon and has just released a seventh album, A Study of Losses.

The album, commissioned as the soundtrack for a Swedish contemporary circus adaptation of Judith Schalansky’s “An Inventory of Losses” [you’ve heard of that, right?], is both a meditation on disappearance and a celebration of what remains.  Across 18 tracks—11 vocal and seven instrumental—Condon weaves a tapestry of sound both novel and nostalgic, balancing new sonic adventures with echoes of Beirut’s past.

What sets Beirut apart is Condon’s fearless embrace of unusual instrumentation. On A Study of Losses, he blends ukulele, two types of accordion, pump organ, and modular synths, alongside a string quartet and a brass section. The result is a sound that traverses indie pop, folktronica, ambient, and even medieval and Renaissance influences while remaining unmistakably Beirut.

Condon’s lyrics remain a focal point, touching on loss, memory, and the ephemeral nature of existence. In “Guericke’s Unicorn,” he questions, “How could this thing | make any sense?”—a line that encapsulates the album’s fascination with the mysteries of what is lost and what lingers. When I first heard “Caspian Tiger” a few weeks before the album release [what used to be called a “single”, I guess], my reaction was that Condon had gone too far.  Too overt, too lyrical, too twee even, but revisited here and in the context of the rest of the album, it makes beautiful sense - a repeated harmonic refrain: “You’re also dying | You’re also safe”.

Moments of musical genius abound: an eloquent interplay between ukulele and string quartet on “Mare Crisium” might not sound very rock and roll, but believe me, go there and be melted.  Or wait, breathless, for the mandolin to suddenly appear after the opening refrains of “Forest Encyclopedia.”

Why Beirut Is Extraordinary

Beirut’s music is not just a collection of songs but an invitation into a world where the boundaries between genres, eras, and emotions dissolve. Condon’s mastery of unusual instruments, his painterly approach to production, and his poetic, often haunted lyrics create a body of deeply personal and universally resonant work. As Condon himself has said, “I was obsessed with archiving all of humanity’s lost thoughts and creations where they collect on the moon…” In Beirut’s hands, loss becomes a source of beauty. Every note is a small act of remembrance.  You may need a good dose of Metallica or AC/DC after dwelling amidst the understated quirkiness here. But you will emerge feeling better from the time invested.

For those seeking music that dares to be different, that aches and soars in equal measure, Beirut is not just different; they are essential. With that in mind, a Spotify Playlist shared here: 11 songs from 5 different albums, from the ear-worm No, No, No to a few glimpses from A Study of Losses.