ANDREW BIRD: ARE YOU SERIOUS (2016)
1) Capsized; 2) Roma Fade; 3)
Truth Lies Low; 4) Puma; 5) Chemical Switches; 6) Left Handed Kisses; 7) Are
You Serious; 8) Saints Preservus; 9) The New Saint Jude; 10) Valleys Of The
Young; 11) Bellevue; 12*) Shoulder Mountain; 13*) Pulaski.
Bird likes to be prolific in so many different
ways that the border between «basic» albums and «special» (live, ambient,
cover, etc.) projects in his career tends to become blurred; but, the way I see
it, Are You Serious is really his
first «basic» album in about four years, since at least Break It Yourself — comprised of bona fide art-pop songs and
nothing else. It appears that, after several years of fiddling about, the idea
here was to produce something normal and accessible, reflecting his new family
life and values, and, indeed, the songs are generally less cryptic lyrically
and less provocative musically than you'd typically expect from the man.
And that is perfectly all right with me, except
the record does little to shatter my belief that Andrew is about a decade past
his creative peak already (which is not a crime — not even the Beatles had
themselves the luxury of ten uninterrupted years of creative growth); then
again, an album that pursues intimately personal goals need not necessarily
strive for originality as well, and this one is just a bunch of family-oriented
songs from the most light-footed loner in modern pop music, and should be taken
as such, and enjoyed like a familiar, predictable, but still delicious gourmet
dinner.
Most of the songs combine sincerity with
catchiness and — how could we make without that? — a lyrical or musical
allegory or two. The very first song, ʽCapsizedʼ, will reassure us that,
happily settled family man or not, this is still the same old neurotic Andrew
Bird, and he still needs somebody by his side when he has to pull it together,
and there's just no telling how much worse things get when the somebody in
question goes missing: "another break up, this ship is capsized", and
we get archaic references to Jesus making our dying bed. The accompanying music
is like a cross between James Brown and Tom Waits, borrowing the funkiness of
the former and the hoarse, distorted approach to instrumentation of the latter,
with broken guitar riffs that could have come from Marc Ribot (actually, they
come from Blake Mills) — but unlike either of them, Andrew never loses his
cool, so that most of the drama is implicit, reflected in the tense,
suspenseful atmosphere but never breaking through to the surface.
It's all about paranoia, really — a set of
songs written by somebody who allegedly feels confused and insecure around
other people, and then finally finds himself in that embarrassing position when
someone (even someone loved) is always
around. "And if she sees you, it changes you / Rearranges your
molecules", he sings on ʽRoma Fadeʼ to an oddly danceable and bizarrely
morose beat, continuing and appropriating the old tradition of «love's a
wonderfully dangerous and dangerously wonderful thing». It gets worse on
ʽPumaʼ: "She was radioactive for seven days / How I wanted to be holding
her anyways / But the doctors, they told me to stay away / Due to flying
neutrinos and the gamma rays" — no, this is not misogyny, this is more
like an inverted case of autophobia, with Bird's jerky, hopping staccato violin
rhythms reflecting his agitated state of mind and the seeming impossibility of
making the right choice.
Musically, the songs seem to draw upon all
sorts of local pop traditions, from Mexican to Caribbean to French to Celtic
to good old 1970s R&B, but all the influences are softly converted to
«Andrew Bird music», based on violins and jazzy guitars, and essentially it
feels like the man has no preferences whatsoever — as long as the whole thing
does not come close to stereotypical «rock» or «pop», and as long as he's
allowed to keep that guitar / violin setup, anything goes at any time. One of
the simpler, folksier songs is a duet with Fiona Apple (ʽLeft Handed Kissesʼ),
who, I guess, could in certain respects be viewed as the female Andrew Bird, so
the collaboration should come across as natural — yes and no, because with
these two certified loners, they have no chemistry whatsoever, and even when
they're singing at the same time, they're pretty much doing it without noticing
that the other guy is in the same room, so... (actually, most of the time he's
not even looking at her in the accompanying video, so even visually it feels as
if they're talking to each other and
to the wall simultaneously). It's kinda cute, even if there's a bit of pretentious
artificialness to the performance.
In any case, the biggest deal here is that it's
easier to relate to a record like this than it is to relate to most of Andrew's
usual dialogs with his inner demons, where you really have to be one of the
demons in question to «get» everything that is going on. This, and the fact
that repeated listens will have the melodies to at least ʽCapsizedʼ, the title
track, and ʽPumaʼ stuck in your head for days, is what makes the record stand out a good bit
from the rest of Andrew's over-inflated latter day catalog, even if it does not
exactly promise a brighter future. Thumbs up, and a special recommendation for
highly sensitive boys with lotsa girl troubles, just to let you know that
you're not alone, and maybe you should pick up some violin lessons.
Christ "Left Handed Kisses" is all over the place. Totally disjointed - the melodies, the vocal performances. But you just can't deny the charm. Maybe the song of the year for me.
ReplyDeleteOverall business as usual from Andrew Bird. Good album.
George, thanks for reviewing Andrew Bird! I would have probably never discovered hi without you)
ReplyDelete