Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrypha

2007, Fat Possum Records

If you loved Andrew Bird’s Mysterious Production of Eggs, then you’ll probably think that Armchair Apocrypha is the bees’ knees.

You might even think that Armchair is better than his past output, given that Bird has learned a few new tricks. Oh, he’s still whistlin’ (and uncaged), and he still plucks and saws at his fiddle, but the drums are a bit more prominent, and he’s employed some intriguing textures to baste what might otherwise be basic songs.

Ambient production techniques also add interesting sonic elements, and Bird’s songwriting remains strong, if not always innovative. No, the jump to Fat Possum Records didn’t change his m.o. very much; there are no blues howlers here, even though Bird seems to have a terminal case of the blues. But we’re all terminal cases, right?

We have another album of subdued songs that you can put in and cry about, or whistle yourself to catharsis, or, in the case of the closer, “Yawny at the Apocalypse,” marvel at Bird’s ability to channel such strange beauty. This is Bird at his best.