Newsgroup: it.arti.musica.rock
Titolo: Andrew Bird & the Mysterious Production of Eggs

There has been a subtle change in my musical taste in recent months and no 
artist has confirmed this more than Andrew Bird with his masterful The 
Mysterious Production of Eggs.  Everything Bird puts on display is simple 
and sweet, despite the layers of cleverness and unparalleled talent in his 
talents as a vocalist and violinist.  It's the sort of album that holds its 
true brilliance so carefree, that you can run around it a dozen times and 
not gain the faintest glimpse of it.  Maybe it's a matter of age or heart or 
taste, but I know there were two stages in my life: I could live without 
Andrew Bird and I can't live without Andrew Bird.
Album opener, "Sovay", has the same traits that are at the core of every 
Bird song; it's guidance is so wispy and innocent, that you never think it 
could lead you to such far-out and adventurous places with extra 
contemplation.  Like most of Egg's first half, it's a song about 
transcending an "accidental suicide" in life and experiencing something new. 
It's the lyrical themes and their meager hints of meaning that keeps the 
listener exploring the album so deeply; in this sense or any other sense, 
Andrew Bird's songs here are extremely rewarding with the progression of 
time.
What is stated above about Bird's lyrics equally apply to his music.  There 
is an intimate quality in everything he does, but then there is an explosion 
somewhere in the mix and it never transcends on the first couple listens. 
Perhaps it's the age of Arcade Fire that has fucked with our perception, but 
on future listens your mind kind of tones down the drama and sees the 
progression of rhythm and harmony as part of the humble beginnings of the 
song.  It's kind of a disappointing realization, but its all part of the 
colors of Bird's very imaginative realm.  It's a world you have to step into 
and become intimate with in order to see any good in it.
Sophistication is the thing I see in Bird's music that really sets it apart 
from anything else out there.  The music builds not as a grand plan of 
cascading motion, but as just another layer of the overall song and ideas 
held behind it.  You can sit down and close your eyes and just feel and 
examine everything on display, much like you would with a painting.  In all 
honesty, these songs are not going to lift you off to the moon like a killer 
Arcade Fire or U2 anthem might, but that in itself is part of Bird's charm. 
He is just a unit, just a man, working with just some ideas and wordplay. 
Its so simple and stupid, that the idea of it moving you from one place to 
another is kind of genius.  He has a good brain and vocal cords, if you 
really want to narrow it down.
lonely_panda
Andrew Bird is an enigmatic singer.  Even if you don't care for what you 
hear, you'll probably get the feeling when listening to him that you are 
listening to a genius -- his sound is hard to qualify, and his songwriting 
is beyond clever.  In fact, it's downright enviable.
Andrew Bird & the Mysterious Production of Eggs is apparently the first time 
Bird has ever recorded himself playing guitar for a record, and this is his 
fifth solo album.  By the time most acts have reached their fifth album, 
they have established themselves and their sound.  But Bird has always been 
a bit of a chameleon when it came to his sound, dabbling in a little bit of 
everything, even invoking jazz and retro-swing with his first couple albums. 
And while his previous studio efforts like Weather Systems and The Swimming 
Hour carved out a niche of unique sound for him to operate in, it seems he's 
further bent on stretching his centrifugal apparatus here.
But in which direction?  How does one go about describing Andrew Bird?  His 
violin-tinged pop is hardly willing to subject itself to a classifictation 
by genre, and that would not be fair, anyway; the melodies are a pop 
landscape with acoustical fringes, and Bird's lyrics float across it 
effortlessly.  Musically, he could be described as light rock, pop, easy 
listening, classical, avant-garde, even punk -- a veritable smorgasbord of 
the familiar, a hodge-podge of genres that rarely, if ever, are injected 
with a fresh consciousness.  But Bird does just that here: the music is 
catchy, inviting, and you can both play this as background music and study 
it under a microscopic lens.  Then there are the lyrics, which are frenetic. 
He plays with words and throws in what sounds good; his imagery is not 
symbolic but rather allegorical.  And to his credit, using this blend he 
seems to have invented a genre all his own on this album: science rock.
This is not folk rock, as some have described it; this is indie rock on a 
molecular level.  With his primary instruments of guitar, violin, and 
whistle -- yes, his whistle! -- he creates on Mysterious Production of Eggs 
a magnetic sound, with its laid-back atmosphere, alacritous vocals, and 
delightfully macabre lyrics.  Put one way, Andrew Bird is Tim Burton's 
musical counterpart.
Take, for example, the lyrics to "Fake Palindromes," which is not the best 
song on the album by any means.  But to showcase how strong the album is, 
read these lyrics from what is about the fifth or sixth best song: "My 
dewy-eyed Disney bride, what has tried/ Swapping your blood with 
formaldehyde?/ Monsters?/ Whiskey-plied voices cried fratricide!"  Bird's 
word choice is motivated by what sounds good and not what makes the simplest 
sense, and it seems no unintentional irony that he delivers these grotesque 
words with a relaxed voice.  "Fake Palindromes" is an explosion of sound, 
easily the loudest song on the album, and one of the most fun.
"Banking on a Myth" is another song with odd choices of words that manage to 
work, as Bird sings, "If you could just do him this favor/ Although it might 
involve child labor/ Join his entourage/ Give him a foot massage/ From Star 
Search to the Philharmonic/ He'll get you there with Hooked on Phonics."
Eggs is a quotable album, full of quirks and nuances both musically and 
lyrically.  It even has some great conceptual artwork by Jay Ryan, and the 
cover ranks among my favorites.  The best songs on the album are "Measuring 
Cups," "Opposite Day," "Skin Is, My," and "Tables and Chairs."  But it would 
be wrong to say only to download a few of these songs.  This is one of the 
best albums I own, and I think it should be in the collection of any serious 
music lover.
Notevenwordshere 

Mysterious Production of Eggs. 
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