In "Plasticities," Andrew Bird's both obvious (see the song title) and covert analysis of the groupthink culture that pervades art in popular culture, he sings "this isn't our song, this isn't even a musical." Which, frankly, is too bad. As a song, it's perfect for "Our Song" status. An anthemic chorus of "We'll fight, We'll fight for your music halls & dying cities." A delicate collection of plucked violins leading the instrumentation and a complex but not brainy or mathy melody. Bird's easy tenor, a nice sing-a-long companion for those armchair lead singers. But, most importantly, it's too bad that it "isn't even a musical." Have you seen the state of musical theatre these days? It's a joke. Popular theatre no longer generates the hit songs or movies, the songs & movies generate the theatre. In a world where AOR lite-rock hacks like Duncan Sheik are winning Tony Awards when they decide to shift their schlock from K-Lite FM 104.1 or WLUV, all love songs, all the time, to Broadway, isn't it a legitimate pity that Andrew Bird and/or Stephen Merritt aren't working in theatre?
Armchair Apocrypha is easily the serious record of 2007, without being the most SERIOUS record of 2007. He leaves the random indie rock politics to the Win Butlers & the Conor Obersts of the world, and instead addresses themes in a way in which A: there is an actual, graspable context and B: there is a unique and interesting musical structure in which to drop these ideas into. And in unique and musical structure, Andrew Bird has drawn himself into quite a niche. Not M. Ward with the old timey guitar & instrumentation and rasped baritone/falsetto, not Jon Brion/Rufus Wainwright with the over the top arrangements and soaring vocals, no. Though these musicians are most certainly his musical bretheren, he is most certainly not them. Most obviously because his instrument of choice is the violin, but secondly because the songs really have no sort of sortable stereotype. Are they pop? yes, somewhat. Are they classical/semi-baroque pop? i guess, there is a lot of violin. But more than anything, they are great, interesting songs that have lots of staying power. They stay with me because they have incredible arrangements (2nd best whistler in music right now, Jim Putnam from the Radar Brothers is the undisputed champion) and they're really smart. Mostly simple chord structures with a mostly and very decidedly not-simple collection of instrumentation to fill out those structures, Armchair Apocrypha works out lots of abstract ideas about modern life in a perfectly ambiguous way. Whether, to paraphrase the website, singing about how it's basically impossible to ride in an airplane without thinking of 9/11 ("Fiery Crash") or talking about maturing from late adolescence into a burgeoning consciousness ("Dark Matter"), every song is, simply, interesting.
As a non-reader-into-lyrics-er like myself might read into that analysis of this album, it sounds, well, kinda boring, right? Not so. Quite frankly, this is the most exciting album i've heard in a long time and one that will be with me for a long time. I didn't love it at first (usually a good thing, as RT addressed before, the whole letting a record grow on you thing), but this is a record i'll be selling on everyone i know, be warned. It's incredible, and Andrew Bird has accelerated to the forefront of the elusive Most Important Musician Alive, a hotly contested spot and very fun-ly debatable topic to rap with your friends about while celebrating the Rum Summer of 2007 over a Gilligan at the Zombie Hut. As serious as music is and can be, one beautiful thing about it is that it doesn't have to be brain surgery or you don't have to be a brainiac on the nerd patrol to debate about a sound or idea that you love. You only have to have taste, or at least think you do.
