Flown Back In

When Andrew Bird’s new single, “Oh No,” first hit the blogosphere back in October, the immediate likeability of the single recalled those nervous tics and scientific twists of the tongue that verge on pop alchemy. Noble Beast features another decoupage of violins and whistles, with a more prominent guitar presence than on earlier albums, and an aesthetic that at times borders on the absurd. At his best Bird presents a restrained version of himself that attracts by means of clever mumbles. When he plays the troubled troubadour with a wry smile he is in full control of his strange gift.

Finding low points on Noble Beast becomes a search for things that sound like crowd-pleasers, and “Fitz and Dizzyspells” seems to exist for just that reason. With all of the “Bird” elements intact it does not really surprise its listeners, and seems to function as a filler piece between more notable tracks. His little half-minute gestures sprinkled throughout also suggest an inner distraction of Bird’s, perhaps even an alternate career fashioning sound effects albums or music libraries. These weaknesses however, are seemingly self-addressed in one of the strongest tracks on the record, “Anononimal” where he chants: “Hold on just a second don’t tell me this one I know I know this one I know this song I know this one I love this song.” Bird seems to be stuck between falling back upon the successful formulas he’s employed in the past and reaching forward and producing tracks as imaginative and progressive as “Not a Robot, But a Ghost.”

The album seems to take on a more Nashville sound than previous albums at times, thanks in part to Bird’s veteran engineer Mark Nevers (Alan Jackson, Calexico, Bonnie “Prince” Billy). However the album reaches also northeasterly to a Scandinavian acoustic approach on tracks such as ”Masterswarm” and “Tenuousness.” Bird explores a simplified rhetoric on Noble Beast in contrast to a more boundlessly creative “nomenclature” of the past. With reverent sincerity in “Effigy” he speaks of himself as “a man who spent a little too much time alone.” Bird’s self-awareness is perhaps most poetic in the last full song on the album, “Souverian,” and his return to timeless themes as displayed throughout Noble Beast is also epitomized on this track when he pines, “Still my lover won’t return to me.” Far from being an overwhelming truth that the album attempts to communicate, a quiet detachment is expressed beneath the album’s multiple and at times countless layers.

Bird’s niche has welcomed comparisons to other bowing acts such as Patrick Wolf and Owen Pallett’s Final Fantasy. Perhaps this has led to a push for self-development that has him reaching in various directions on this album, without ever attaining a fully realized cohesion among the fourteen tracks on his latest endeavor. For Bird fans, the highlights of the album promise to fill that void fans have been feeling in anticipation. For those who can count their favorite Bird songs on one hand, the album replete with its myopic vocabulary obsessions and instrumental goose trails might be too much Bird in one sitting.