Andrew Bird |
 |
Firstly, an excuse. I have been meaning to write this review for months,
but in actual fact, it's the album itself, the object of the review, that's
stopped me. I think it's so good when you find a great musician right out
of the blue. I'd never even heard of Andrew Bird until this March, when Kristin
Hersh released her finest album to date, The Grotto - a collaboration
between herself, Bird and Howe Gelb. He's there providing the saddest violin
you'll ever hear, on 'Deep Wilson'. That's what brought him to my attention
- I'd never heard of any of his previous incarnations, much less any of his
music - The Squirrel Nut Zippers, for example, or his 'Bowl of Fire', and
was unaware of his other albums. So, for once, I was coming to an artist completely
fresh. And now I'm hooked.
I dug around on the web for some other stuff of his, and curiously, everything
I found I enjoyed thoroughly and very nearly instantly, especially his previous-but-one
album, Oh, The Grandeur!. His voice is a revelation - emotive and
clear, tinged with an infectious weariness, I found him instantly compelling.
His lyrics are often outstanding, pithy, witty and precise. I developed an
unhealthy obsession with 'Tea And Thorazine', about his autistic brother,
from that previous album, that now, six months later, hasn't gone away.
And so, when in reviewing the album, I find myself obsessing over the songs
on Weather Systems (which is officially an EP) in the same way. The
very first song, um, 'First Song', is so harmonically sweet and evocative
of a particular scene - a young boy sits, tired, on a fence and is joined
by two others with violins, and they play along to the croaking of frogs.
I found myself listening to it for a *very* long time in isolation, not wanting
to venture further for fear of the rest of the album not living up to it.
There was no need to worry: it does. Based on a Galway Kinnell poem, 'First
Song', to me, is worth the price of admission alone. Each song here comes
fully-formed, breathing almost, from the frankly creepy, dissatisfied 'I',
to the very pretty, undulating "Lull", an ode to self-deprecation:
'Rambling on rather self-consciously/As I'm stirring these condiments into
my tea/And I think, I'm so lame/I bet I think this song is about me, don't
I, don't I, don't I...?', Bird seems to share Kristin Hersh's feet-on-the-ground
I-ain't-so-great worldview.
Beautifully produced, this EP has a real depth to it. "Action Adventure"
(Now I'm just a split in your seam/The "I" in your team...) or the
startling title track, which is over far too soon, just keep surprising me
when I come back to them with their wit and, frankly, weary joy. Absolutely
superb.
Dermot Fitzsimons
:: back to top ::