Andrew Bird – Armchair Apocrypha Review
Posted by Morgan Marx on 03.23.2007
One of the young year’s best from someone other than Arcade Fire…
The blues are simple. A few chords. A broken heart. A tale of loss and regret. It’s a routine as old as the genre itself, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Andrew Bird is not simple. He is a classically trained violinist who moonlights as an indie-pop troubadour. His albums employ instruments like glockenspiel and Wurlitzer. His lyrics contain multi-syllabic words that will have you running to Dictionary.com. Yet, at his musical core, Andrew Bird is incredibly bluesy. It comes with his voice, a smooth, gentle thing that makes phrases like “machinations and his palindromes” go down easy. So maybe Andrew Bird is simple after all.
Armchair Apocrypha, Bird’s seventh release, is a complex mix of intricate wordplay, layered instrumentals, and competing genres. Lesser musicians would be buried by the weight of the looped tracks. The lyrical tricks and rhyme schemes would come off as forced or pretentious. It’s to his credit that Bird is able to make pulling off such fare look easy. Bird’s songs deal with topics ranging from plane crashes to the Scythian Empire, yet always sound inviting. He can be direct and catchy, such as on the lead single “Heretics” or moody as on the explorative instrumental “Yawny and the Apocalypse.” His range as an artist is impressive, yet Bird manages to not over do it.
Take his use of the violin. It has become chic in recent years for “rock” bands to employ the instrument as some sort of cred device. Bands like Yellowcard and Dashboard Confessional seem to be making a conscious effort to say, “Hey, look at us, we’re smarter than the average band.” Bird weaves his (very talented and smart) violin subtly throughout his music. The electric guitar is up front on most of the album’s 12 tracks. Yet, if you listen closely, the violin pops up. On “Plasticities,” while the guitar cuts out standard riffs, a staccato plucked violin repeats at the track’s foundation. It’s a great device that Bird and drummer/loop expert Martin Dosh pull off both on the album and live, which is no small feat.
“Heretics” features similar guitar/violin interaction played over a steady pounding drumbeat. Bird delivers semi-spoken lyrics sleepily. The song builds to an instantly singable, “Thank God it’s fatal/not shy/not shy of fatal” chorus that would sound at home on any hipster’s iPod. It’s the kind of song that cynics call “appealing to new audiences,” but is actually just plain good.
The semi-title track “Armchairs” follows next and is as expansive as “Heretics” is catchy. The song is a slow, jazzy crawl though space and time. It builds to a piano driven crescendo that finds Bird letting his vocals go a bit, wailing lines like “You didn’t write you didn’t call/it didn’t cross your mind at all.” At 7 minutes long, the song feels just right, falling short of indulgent or meandering.
And did I mention the whistling? Many of the songs on Armchair Apocrypha start with a (here’s that word again) simple whistle. “Darkmatter” features the year’s best whistling from anyone not named Peter, Bjorn, or John (and I hear they fake it live). It’s a remarkable thing, the lack of good whistling found in music today. Andrew Bird might single-handedly bring it back.
Bird’s lyrics can sometimes seem born from antiquity, yet pop culture shout outs to the game Operation and talking head Lou Dobbs grounds things in the present. Bird’s songs read just as well in the liner notes as they sound on the record. You can spend time deciphering the lyrics and still not come up with a concrete idea about some of the references. The songs stay fresh that way, and bear out multiple listens.
In a year filled with big time releases from alternative royalty like Arcade Fire and Modest Mouse, Andrew Bird has released an early darkhorse contender for album of the year. Like a surprising 5 seed that’s destroying your March bracket (I’m looking at you UNLV), Bird is not a household name. Armchair Apocrypha should be his ticket to recognition.
The 411: On the heels of a critically acclaimed album, Andrew Bird has released an even more expansive and surprising one. Armchair Apocrypha is an eclectic mix of indie pop and downcast blues. Bird’s vocals are easy on the ear and blend perfectly with his wide range of instrumentation. Don’t let the twee titles or tongue twister lyrics scare you, this album is just aching to be loved.
