Album Review: Andrew Bird - "Soldier On" (7/10)

By Little August

New Americana for the New America

I have recently been listening to Andrew Bird non-stop. I can’t help myself. He’s that good. And he’s not new. To those of you who are part of the indie rock snobbery that is both at times appealing and repulsive, you probably heard Bird’s 2005 album The Mysterious Production of Eggs. If you have not heard of Andrew Bird, go to iTunes , buy all of his work, hit “play” and then continue on with this review with his songs in the background. Then listen to his work again. Stop. Check to see if he is visiting your city soon. Repeat.

Originally slated as a European-tour-only EP for his 2007 tour, Bird has released Soldier On digitally for the rest of us who weren’t able to make it to Gothenburg.

The album starts off with Bird sounding very Thom Yorke-ish with his ghost-like “ooohs” setting the mood of what shapes up to be combination of a somewhat dark song set mixed with highlights of a couple different takes of older Andrew Bird songs and a superb Bob Dylan cover at the finale.

In addition to being compared to Yorke, Bird has been compared to sounding like Rufus Wainwright and Jeff Buckley . I think there are times where Bird’s voice sounds less like Wainwright and Buckley and more how Sondre Lerche would sound after 10 years of extensive English classes.

But Bird is his own man: sometimes living up to his (sur)name with accomplished birdlike whistling (be it ironic or intentional), and unlike Yorke and Lerche, distinctly American, singing from one American to another of a docile culture bloated by wealth that is threatened to crumble under the weight of its “success.”

Bird’s sublime cover of the American bard, Dylan, is symbolic of the Americana torch being passed not only between generations but also between genres. A bold statement to be sure, but could it be that Bird’s style of new-world-American themes interlaced with his multi-instrumental, orchestral music (a style similarly echoed by another great American songwriter, Sufjan Stevens ) is replacing any version of modified folk and is emerging as the New Americana?

His songs are steeped in rich layering of imagery and logophilic purity. The EP opens with “The Trees Were Mistaken, ” setting the stage with themes of cultural preservation in this modern time where society threatens to cement its symbolic Southfield Freeway directly over and across the stories that once dwelled in its place. Knowing that the Southfield Freeway is in Michigan, I couldn’t resist a quick Google search to find out if there were any articles of interest with the Indian name “Blackbird” in that state (because of Bird’s repeated instance that his name is not Blackbird in this opening song). This search turned up an interesting character from Michigan’s past who was recently honored in 2007 on Michigan’s Walk of Fame: Andrew Blackbird, who was an Ottawa Indian from the 19th century remembered for various accomplishments linked to preserving culture. Is Bird lamenting our society’s tendencies to (in this song’s case, literally) pave over the past, destroying its rich culture? Or is this a certifiable Little August conspiracy? In either case, I am in Oakland, not Scotland Yard, so we will move on after agreeing that, for better or for worse, listening to Andrew Bird makes you feel smarter.

Sic of Elephants follows this opening tune, where the New Americana poet speaks to the masses of a new generation 21st century America on the dangers of our society’s condition of seemingly starting the decline after a 50-year peak as a superpower:

Can't you see how dangerous
When you're too content to make a fuss
Can't you see how dangerous

The lyrics portray republican Elephants and lobbying sycophants as being behind the current war, but place the blame squarely on us (yes, likely the same us, the new generation of young adult Americans who are now reading The Old Shack) for our inability to choose (i.e. our infamous inability to stand up and vote in the 2004 election):

Can't you see how dangerous
The one you chose is
Which brings us back to
Might makes right
So we learn from Wars of the Roses
Pain was only fear kneading your toeses

Bird alludes to the disastrous War of the Roses, perhaps to liken the British civil war between two royal houses to the Red State / Blue State tug-o-war currently dividing our country.

Bird’s best stab at painting the dilemma of the New America is found within the lyrics to “How You Gonna Keep ‘Em Down on the Farm.” The lyrics here come from Mister Reuben and his Wifey Dear: two old representatives of the Old America where hard work, agriculture and the simple life comprised much of what made America great. The Old American ambassadors contemplate the dilemma of what will happen to their world now that “the war” is over and their sons are returning, victorious. Ma seems to think life will be the same back on the farm, but clairvoyant Mister Reuben foresees the future of a country led by a generation who have returned victorious.

They’ll never want to see a rake or a plow,
and who the deuce can parlez-vous a cow?
And how ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm
after they’ve seen Paris?

Mister Reuben’s assessment of the next generations future rings true for our current “Generation Me,” who feels we increasingly deserve more, more, more (like the new Comcast commercials!):

“Mother Reuben, I’m not fakin',
though you may think it strange.
But wine and women play the mischief,
with a boy who’s loose with change!”

Perhaps there is more mischief in store, or maybe the masses of the New America will dig up the Southfield Freeway, find the roots that once made America strong and will Soldier On into a brave new future with the New Americana bard Andrew Bird at the helm.