CornellWatch

Last night at the State Theatre down on the Ithaca Commons, Andrew Bird pleasantly treated me to one of the best concerts I have ever heard, and I would like to think that means something. On what was a surprisingly cold night, Ithaca’s hipsters, hippies, classical music lovers, and general show-uppers piled into the theater at around 8.

Now I am assuming many in the audience, like myself, did not bother to check whether there was an opening act. Well, I’ll just let you know that there was…it sucked. They guy’s name was Sandro Perri and he was from Canada. He was basically a mopey, sadder version of Andrew Bird, and I am not sure why we were supposed to care.

Now he clearly was pretty good at guitar and he did play drums, guitar, and sing at the same time…but his songs had titles such as “Tears Die When They Hit the Floor.” Need I say more?

Had it not been for the Ithaca Brewery’s refreshing ale at intermission, my spirits would have been completely crushed and my resolve would have stayed broken. My friend who knew nothing of Andrew Bird even contemplated leaving after Mr. Perri literally put him to sleep.

But at long last, Andrew Bird took the stage. I think the best way to describe Bird would be that he is the asshole who steals all the girls by being cuter, more talented, better looking, and more in touch with his emotions than most men are capable of. I seriously became worried half way through the show that the girl next to me would ooze all over me as Andrew Bird melted the cockles of her heart.

If I was a girl, I probably would have been ready to put out in about 30 seconds. [Ed's note: Andrew Wolf usually puts out in 10 minutes, so this is saying something.] He walked on stage in a vest and tie, proceeded to take off his shoes, revealing Rainbow socks (he’s an LGBT ally!). He placed his shoes ever so delicately outside of the spotlight and then reached into his gym bag and pulled out a sock monkey, which he put on his amp. Audible exclamations of adorableness could be heard.

Now, I didn’t know much about Bird going into the show and that made it all the better. I have a few of his CDs, but it is definitely not the music that defines my existence. I never really thought about how he does what he does. I was shocked to find out he had no band (despite his quipping that the spinning antique speakers behind him were his band). I also, being not much of a classical music fan, figured from his album that he was playing a piano set on some bizarre setting. Instead he was plucking his violin, holding it like a guitar.

Bird could be described as the antithesis to most modern rock and indie music. His songs are incredibly complex, not the three chord progressions of most dribble. On each song Bird would build his song live on stage. He would record the base part by plucking his violin, then hitting a button with his foot that would loop this recording. He would then add a layer playing a tune on the violin with his bow, again looping it. Finally, he would add guitar, singing, intense whistling, and the occasional haphazard clapping pattern.

It was extremely intriguing to watch. The songs flowed into each other, without being the same, and the song lyrics were actually intelligent. While lacking the raw power of most rock, Bird’s songs exhibited a deep and poetic quality that more than compensated for the lack of rocking-out-with-your-cock-out. Simply put, there are many compelling reasons to see Bird live as opposed to listening to a recording.

Beyond his music, Bird possesses an engaging personality. He was funny, personable, and interesting. He could not stop commenting on how much he enjoyed the acoustics of the theater, and it showed in his performance… he certainly enjoyed himself. At one point in the show someone threw an Obama ‘08 T-shirt on stage. Upon examining the shirt, Bird leaned into the microphone, “I approve this message.” Much to the delight of the Ithaca crowd, of course.

In an age where our music is often recycled tidbits off past styles, Bird felt like breath of fresh air. He was a pleasant reminder that even without a synthesizer a traditional musician can still create something fresh.

Tags: andrew bird, music review

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 5th, 2008 at 4:01 pm by andrew wolf and is filed under muzak. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.