Win Butler photo via La Colombe Coffee Instagram
It’s Valentine's Day and it’s snowing in New York. Win Butler, the approximately 14 foot tall singer of Arcade Fire, is spending his Valentine's Day brewing coffee and posing for photos for and with a room full of people who love his band enough that they’re willing to trek to Soho on an utterly freezing bullshit afternoon to bask in the vast shadow of Butler’s frame. The coffee company, La Colombe, has collaborated with Butler to create a special Haitian blend that he is here to promote. I’m there (at the behest of Nasty Little Man, the company that, with a roster including Spoon, U2, and Vampire Weekend, are basically the Alan Dershowitz of PR companies), begging my girlfriend’s indulgence and getting my feet soaked in the slurry of no-longer-novel New York dirt-snow, to be a prick about it. Or at least such is my intention.
I am not an Arcade Fire fan. I have made literally fifties of dollars making cheap jokes at their expense on a variety of websites, including this one, which you liked better a few years ago. I don’t hate Arcade Fire. "Hate" is a strong word that I save for Nazis and anonymous commenters. But I don’t dig them. Their ambition/pomposity and unverified reputation for unpleasantness makes them an easy target. As a writer on the Internet, I do not fear the easy target. So I figured I’d go to this event, "Win Butlers are just like us…baristas!" and roll my eyes until they got lodged on my horns. Then I’d write some petty mischief about "hipsters" and "white people" and just wait for that sweet content money to roll in. But Win Butler fucked me. Hard. In such a way that I may start defending the Arcade Fire disco album for reasons other than principle alone.
Win Butler ruined my plans by doing an entirely harmless and kind thing, for an irrefutably good cause. The proceeds from sale of RaRa, the coffee grown in the Baptiste region of Haiti and roasted in Philadelphia, goes to two charities, Partners in Health and Haiti Coffee Academy. Partners in Health is an organization devoted to partnering with communities to ensure that those in poverty are provided with the health care they need. They prefer to work "in solidarity" with local sister organizations to ensure a dignity that goes hand in hand with the essential services. Haiti Coffee Academy provides training and support for independent Haitian coffee farmers and suppliers.
Fine, Win Butler, I’m not going to make jokes about either of these charities. You, no pun intended to the point that I wish you’d been born with a different name and that I’d never been born at all, win. Guess I’ll just sip on the free coffee you graciously handed me after an entirely reasonable wait in line and hope some Tea Party activists or Coachella bookers show up.
The crowd of fans itself was diverse (by indie standards, but still), the crowd was happy and clearly getting what they came for (smiles, photos, light chit-chat and coffee). Two gentlemen I talked to were visiting from Argentina. I asked if they came specifically for this event and they just smiled at me like you would a dim but sweet child, "ha-ha…no. But this is pretty good." Arcade Fire fans were amiable and reasonable and all the strength drained from my spiteful bones. One girl gave Win Butler a pen and ink drawing she’d made of him. It was actually quite good and he seemed really grateful. I am foiled to the point of my mustache twirling me. I interviewed a few more fans but, knowing what the cause was, backed away in palpable guilt when it seemed like they might say something mock-able. I fully intend to get to heaven and maintain my mother’s love so fuck an overly earnest fan sound bite. So they really like Arcade Fire. I can think of bigger crimes in, like, a minute. Everybody was nice and happy and only "hipsters" in the broadest sense of "they exist." They asked Win Butler softball questions like "how long are you in town?" but what were they supposed to ask? They had zero clicks to bait, they just wanted to be near the man who made music that moved them, while he served cups of charity coffee and wore a novelty baseball cap. I wouldn’t want to date these people, but I’d happily be adopted by any of them.
When the publicist asked me what I thought of Rara, I said I liked it (it tastes like coffee, a substance, like alcohol, that I drink for effect rather than taste) and then we sort of looked over each other’s shoulders until I said "I’m going to go stand over there" and shuffled off. By this point Win Butler was signing autographs, patiently and seemingly willing to write personal messages when asked. I almost felt my jacket for a pen before I psychically slapped myself to remind my brain that it didn’t actually have much of an opinion about Win Butler and to, for the love of God, be cool. Then Win Butler sat in the corner and chatted amiably with fans while other fans circled amiably, waiting for their chance. I figured that even if Butler defeated me this round, he would, by nature of being a human, do something corny soon enough. And I’d be waiting, because I get paid to feel things strongly about the Win Butlers of the world and these Crazy Spirit 7'' singles don’t pay for themselves. I went outside in the snow to call my girlfriend to say that I was on my way home and to say "Happy Valentine's Day."