Gentle strings, lilting acoustic guitars and some laid-back whistling introduce ‘Oh No,’ – but it’s a false sense of easiness, because shortly after Bird starts singing about sociopaths and claustrophobia and the conflict between form and content is calculatedly uncomfortable. As the album evolves – and evolve it does, particularly with repeated listens, which reveal new depths and nuances – it becomes apparent that this is something of a trademark of Andrew’s, as is whistling.
And into ‘Masterswarm,’ which begins as a light, gentle, and wistful number, but again, there’s twist as Bird recalls ‘we were the young, we were the swarm’ and the song veers of in a number of different directions during the course of its six and a half minutes, rendering it anything but a straightforward folk-tinged ditty.
‘Fitz and the Dizzy Spells’ – which would make a great name for a band – introduces fuller instrumentation, in the form of bass, synths, and full percussion, before a return to sparser, simpler backing on ‘Effigy.’
Each song is (superficially) and sweet, if not always so short, and is a subtle and delicately-crafted piece, conveying a range of emotions and some deft lyrical turns. There are some inventive approaches to instrumentation and arrangement, too, notably on ‘Not a Robot, But a Ghost’ which is scratchy and quirky, and combines acoustic guitar with some unusual extraneous sounds combined to create a shuffling, raggedly metallic edge, and is a real standout, crawling with 21st-century paranoia against a backdrop that hints at rust-stained histories and times lost beneath the tide of technology. But there are other strong tracks on ‘Noble Beast’ that demonstrate the depth and diversity of Bird’s songwriting skills, including ‘Anonanimal’ that goes a bit Cure-esque at around the three-minute mark. Taken as a whole, it’s an album that’s consistent in terms of quality and cohesive while lyrically diverse. Strangely rewarding.
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