By my count, Andrew Bird's albums have appeared on The D Man's year-end list four times. As I've written before, "his baroque, lyrically whimsical chamber-pop has no other peers, largely due to his violin virtuosity and looping build-ups performed with multiple instruments." My loyal cadre of readers know this blog is getting long in the tooth, or I am running out of things to say about Bird, when I have to quote myself.
If you have never seen Bird live, well, you should. His considerable gifts are on full display. His pipes are nimble and strong, which is a necessary skill if you are pulling off some of the taffy-stretching lyrics he offers up. And his astute musicianship is readily apparent, to say nothing of his compositional acumen. Bird's music beats with a Midwest heart, but it is set to the metronome of classical European training. And did I mention that he is a world-class whistler?
So it seems routine that our master of picking and palindromes recorded another fine album, Break it Yourself. One critic said that if you like smart pop music and are not familiar, hearing Bird for the first time will feel like discovering a new planet. This observation is a welcome reminder for long-time Bird listeners, too. Because we should never take for granted an artist so gifted, an artist sharing tonal and melodic moments that are so lovely, so likeable.
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