Noble Beast

by

Andrew Bird

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Do you like chamber pop? I mean really, really like chamber pop? The kind of pop music that is intimate and full of careful touches, perfectly crafted? Well, then this is the record for you. This record is a constant pleasure, offering the sort of tunefully creative pop that combines some of the emotionalism of Belle and Sebastian with the whimsy of Badly Drawn Boy and the croon of Rufus Wainwright, minus the rough burr in the middle of his voice (not that I mind that burr in Rufus--it is actually part of his charm--but I digress). OK, so that might be a hard thing to imagine, but pop this disc in, and you'll see what I mean. Gentle melodies sung with verve, humor, melancholy, and unforced sweetness, amazingly pleasant whistling (!) and fresh production. Andy has an up front sort of innocence about his singing, even when he sings of heartbreak or regret, and although his production can be complicated, it doesn't take a genius to follow his beautiful tunes. From afar, it seems a swirling mess, but the closer your listen, the more every sound that is there simply needs to be there.

If you've never listened to Andy Bird before, this is going to be a real treat. If you are already a fan, you won't be disappointed--this may be his best album yet, and that is no small claim. Listening to the album is simply a lot of fun, and I can't imagine that I'm going to get tired of listening to this one any time soon. Very recommended for people who love chamber pop.

Noble Beast is a pretty decent release. The songs are sonically cohesive and compelling, two qualities that eluded its predecessor Armchair Apocrypha, an album that never became more than the sum of its parts. Andrew Bird's assembled cast of musicians toured together for several months before cutting this album and it really shows. Thankfully, the cut-and-paste feel of Armchair has been excised, revealing songs that simply sound more relaxed and natural.

The Latin-tinged "Masterswarm" for example features undulating rhythms that effortlessly melds signature Bird whistling and violin before melting into an impressive middle eight section. A Beatles-esque guitar hook anchors "Effigy" and its spare, understated framework though I swear it's a recast number from the Bowl of Fire days. "Nomenclature", despite its lyrical indulgence (more on this later) blasts a wall of sound on the unsuspecting listener. "Natural Disaster" ranks among the finest of Andrew Bird's melodic compositions, showcasing a steel guitar that nicely countrifies the song. (The country feel is something I have sorely missed in Andrew Bird's most recent offerings.).

(Warning! Constructive criticism follows!)

Occasionally, there are missteps however. The weak points are twofold: the singing and the lyrics. There's an old joke about how Mazzy Star guitarist David Roback can play at three speeds: slow, slower, and slowest. Similarly, Andrew Bird can sing in two ways: plaintive and more plaintive. In the opening verse to "Tenuousness", he is either recovering from wisdom teeth extraction or singing with a mouthful of marbles. Moreover, his voice all too easily strays into schmaltzy territory when he heads for the higher registers. The lack of vocal range, in both pitch and emotion, make for songs that struggle to distinguish themselves from one another.

The lyrics, meanwhile, are a hit-and-miss affair. Andrew Bird's best songs are when he has a story to tell. The worst are when he has no story and instead strings together weighty words. True, deep meaning has never been pop music's strong point but eventually you must concede that the emperor has no clothes. Sure, "calcified arithmetists" does sound cool but... huh? Homeless sociopaths, affable effigies, sea anemone and the enemy... You get the impression that Andrew Bird must have been a speech-language pathologist in a previous life.

"Tenuousness" is a good example of Bird's obsession with fun words getting the better of him. Dragging out the syllables ("ten... u... ous... ness") in song does not a hook make. It's like Andrew Bird thought that 'tenuousness' was linguistically interesting and decided he just _had_ to write a song about it. It reminds me of Kill Bill when Elle Driver extemporizes, "You know I've always liked that word: gargantuan... [I] so rarely have an opportunity to use it in a sentence..."

At worst, the lyrics are better described as maudlin rather than well-thought and thought-provoking. After boldly declaring, "There will be snacks!" on The Mysterious Production Eggs, Andrew Bird makes good on his promise by delivering more lyrics specifically designed to tug at your heartstrings. By mentioning turnips and finger paints, he appeals to the little child lost that everyone fancies is trapped inside themselves. Perhaps the joke is on us though. After all, isn't this the same man who once sang, "I'm so lame, I think this song is about me. Don't I? Don't I? Don't I?"

But don't get me wrong. Sniping aside, it's still a solid body of work. Artistically, it's a step forward for Andrew Bird and while I like the CD, I think it's good to still be critical of it. It's like how I voted for Obama but I'm still going to be critical of him for the next four years. You will be too, right?