Andrew Bird Kicks Off His Shoes at the Beacon

The long and short of watching Andrew Bird play a set is that he is just about as talented as any musician out there plying his wares these days. There are so many things he does that he does from song to song that could easily be the makings of cheesy gimmickry. The sonic looping and layering, the virtuoso whistling (did you know such a thing existed? it does, although only one artist I’d classify as such), the chamber-quartet-quality violin playing, the spoken-singing breakdowns midsong, in lesser hands it is nothing less than shtick.

It’s like computer animation — without talent, it can be a crutch that leads to nothing more than garbage; in able hands, under the guidance of real vision and ability you get something that might not have been achievable otherwise, another level. That is where Bird takes his music.

He started Friday night with a handful of songs solo, but no matter. Everything got multiplied all night long, so when he was by himself on stage he played with the force of four or five, and when it was the full trio, the size of the sound was, at times, infinite. It wasn’t a song into the night when Bird kicked his shoes to the side to ride out the remainder in stocking feet — I guess that’s a ritual, more shtick, but [blush] how can you resist? That mini-set ended with his cover of Giant of Illinois, which was one of the more basic tune of the night — a man and his guitar — as well as an early highlight.

The band joined him promptly and they immediately got the ball rolling with Fiery Crash off his 2007 release Armchair Apocrypha. I would have expected the rest of the night to be littered with push-the-album selections, but seeing as the album’s been out for a while, I was pleasantly surprised with a set mixed with older stuff as well as some yet-to-be released. So, there were highlight-film-worthy versions of Plasticities and Imitosis but, not to be outdone, shining versions of, yes, Lull and a new one called, I believe A Non-Animal.

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Plasticities from Coachella 2007

The older tune was the one I’d hoped to hear — for old times’ sake — and it did not disappoint (nothing disappointed, actually). I barely recognized it once it got going, to tell you the truth, which is a good thing. Bird writes wonderful songs, records them in the studio impeccably, but as his live show proves, he does not keep them caged. Lull seemed a bit off-tempo and, like many of its cousins, erupted in a mind-melding, layer-upon-layer midsection. The newer tune was encouraging because it’s as good as anything else I’ve heard by him, which means the future is bright. The lyrical playfulness of [A Non-Animal] is something to behold.

Bird’s music kind of surprises you in the live setting. It’s sit-down music for sure, music you want to relax to and absorb, to close your eyes and probe the different strata with your mind’s ear. But it does swing and groove a bit more than you expect. It’s not a delicate bauble, more of an intense wave of sound — all that classical violin and whistling gets stirred in the pot with waves of sound and guitar and bass and doesn’t quite rock out, per se, but sinks deep and penetrates. As much as a trio could be considered an orchestra, the music is orchestral, with a penchant for Pink-Floyd-esque interludes. I think a perfect double bill would be Andrew Bird opening for My Morning Jacket — that would stroke just about every musically-inclined neuron in my body.

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Simple-X at Bonnaroo 2006

The set veered through this material without missing a beat. It was a performance in the truest sense, Bird prancing and gesturing maniacally, the lights being that fourth band member and adding just the right touch. Watching the show unfold it struck me to wonder what Andrew was like growing up — was the talent always there, always appreciated? Is it more pretentious to tour with a string quartet or to know you’re talented enough to recreate and surpass its sound with the aid of nothing more than some digital effects?

Classical, jazz, pop, blues, gospel: I heard it all in there. There were lots of bonafide moments that made up the night — Bird whistling a capella while the entire theater hushed into a rare and noteworthy New York silence, a sweep of his bow across the violin which produced more sound than a dozen fiddles would have, the rhyming of “duty free” and “must see TV” (in Action/Adventure) pulled off without irony — but it’s tough to pin down just a few without knowing that I probably forget the best ones.

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Fake Palindromes at Bonnaroo 2006

It’s rare that I go to a show without looking for the time at least once. As enraptured as I may be, I’m always looking out for my own sleep deprivation or, at the very least, the train schedule. I can honestly report that I checked the time when they took the stage at 9pm-ish and was taken by surprise when he said it was their last tune. When I checked it had been 90 full minutes of delicious music and felt like barely 30. Most certainly, I was in a lull…Mr. Bird, you’ve done it again!

Plus, double encore, dude! He finished as he started, alone on stage, doing something a little more unexpected…what I could only describe as a gospel blues; yes, Jesus was in the building.

The opening act for the night was Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche. I thought maybe he’d be with a band, honestly I had no idea what to expect. Instead, he was solo. It was very interesting. Solo drum acts can be tedious, this is fact. This one actually wasn’t too bad. At least it started off promisingly. It wasn’t just drum solo, but more like percussive storytelling, Kotche had a good hold on generating melody within his limited instrumentation, using samples and looping to not quite ABird-ian effect, but still…I was enjoying it quite a bit for the first couple of tunes, and then I realized that barely 15 minutes had passed and I was ready for it to be over. Right after that, he launched into the longest and most trying “song” of the night (something involving Bali and monkeys?). Still, not bad for an opening act, not easy to hold sway at a half-filled Beacon.