Andrew Bird
Noble Beast
Fat Possum
By Mike Randall
Is it possible to pretend that an album that came out two years ago hasn’t been released yet? Not in the sense that it wasn’t a good record, but in the sense it would feel more appropriate on the heels of a different effort. That might be the case for Andrew Bird’s 2007 release, Armchair Apocrypha, against his most recent, Noble Beast. Compiling truckloads of hooks and memorable melodies, Armchair became Bird’s biggest commercial success to date in part because it was an excellent album, but also because it was easily digestible. Perhaps Noble Beast might have been better suited to bridge the gap between what many consider Bird’s masterpiece, The Mysterious Production of Eggs, and his breakthrough, Armchair.
While Armchair was perfect for getting musical snippets into commercials, as a whole it felt rushed and pieced together. Noble Beast lacks the overwhelming pop sensibility of its predecessor in comparison, but it makes tremendous strides through better, deeper songs that are far more relaxed and carry a hue of grey above its cohesive surface. Expanding upon the more rustic moments of Eggs but stopping just short of the radio-friendly nature of Armchair, Bird welds together classical and folk influences that emphasize acoustic guitar over anything else. So much so that his omnipresent violin and virtuoso whistling lurk like fireflies in the distance, and it’s actually a good thing.
As on all Bird records, mood carries more weight than lyrics. Although his poetic wordplay and ability to string together meaningful songs from idioms ending in –ology or –osis remains impressive, his musical vocabulary is what’s most compelling. Noble Beast is as rhythmically varied as anything he’s done: sometimes straightforward, sometimes not, but never ostentatious. He’s also developed his voice into yet another limitless instrument, almost as if it’s the fifth string on his violin. His range isn’t quite that of Jeff Buckley’s, but they have similar phrasing in that syllables pour out like sweat and emotion just drips from the soul.
“Effigy” is the standout here, beginning with hypnotic gypsy plucks of his violin that fade off, giving way to warm acoustic guitar. Double-harmony vocals and front-porch violin portray a gorgeous Americana, forming what would be the perfect segue from Eggs to the mature Noble Beast to the poppier Armchair. “Natural Disaster” offers another similar demonstration of Bird’s folk leaning, this time dusting it up with flourishes of dobro. Bird channels the movement of Paul Simon’s “The Boxer” during “Tenuousness,” adding gentle keyboards, electric guitar and, of course, violin to the mix for a truly orchestral feel in an organic manner. It’s these kind of subtle elements, and the effortless way Bird’s violin delicately hovers above songs like “Masterswarm” that make the record such a rewarding listen.
With big things planned for Noble Beast, Fat Possum might have missed the boat, at least in a commercial sense. Despite being a far better record than Armchair in just about every way, it’s also much more complex as a whole. While there are extraordinarily songs that sound like distant cousins to Armchair’s “Fiery Crash” (“Oh No” and “Anoanimal” come to mind), a crawling and mournful track like the cerebral folk hymn “Souverian” might not be up everyone’s alley. Whether or not he fills Radio City Music Hall, Bird has managed a record that will be commercially acceptable on some levels yet artistically acceptable on every level.
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