Andrew Bird has the skill to balance two distinct sounds nearly impossible to attain in and of themselves: looseness and precision. The Chicago native has the classical violin training to organize and orchestrate compositions to exacting dynamics but also boasts the sensibilities and voice of a folk artist, able to make the shaggy and improvisational accessible. His pieces of work hinge these two elements together with traces of jazz, rock and classical orchestration, creating a hazy and oddly compelling whole with Bird and his mellow voice in the center. At best, his songs can sound like totally organic outgrowths with a touch of classicism — a 21st century mashup that looks to explore and not simply amplify. It’s a unique and delicate approach, and it took a while to catch on (2009’s _Noble Beast_ was his breakthrough), but the charms have always been cerebral, based on the pleasure of hearing these disparate elements gracefully interweave.
Turns out some emotional heartache is the magic ingredient, and a bit of unpredictability and vulnerability gives some agreeable edge and concept to _Break it Yourself_, his latest. Recorded mostly at home after the burnout resulting in an endless tour and bad breakup, _Break_ is allowed some shagginess and space to breathe, giving Bird’s more melancholy state time to absorb and explore itself.
It does so in a wonderful sonic environment: Bird has always been a master at making a multitude of instruments sound low-key and unobtrusive, and the opener “Desperation Breeds…” cements the fact. The title is appropriate, as plucky strings and murmuring guitar are all that accompany Bird’s mournful rumble. Soon however, he literally orchestrates an ornate and dynamic soundscape that swoops and buzzes with aplomb and technical perfection. However, Bird allows for some emotional murkiness to seep in through the edges, giving the precision a light sense of beguiling unease. At first, “Orpheo Looks Back” smacks of brisk but energetic formalism, but it soon becomes surprisingly folksy and loose, with mandolin and fiddle providing an atmosphere that’s vaguely Appalachian and completely festive. “Danse Caribe” begins as a modest waltz that expands and becomes a spotlight for some electric guitar noodling, upbeat vocal runs and a fun bit of Bird’s signature whistling. It’s a track that does well to reveal the albums goal as a whole: begin with a neat, clean exterior and slowly reveal the interesting mess and melody inside.
It’s that balance that manages to make _Break it Yourself_ weirdly compelling. Experiments and throwaways get thrown in with the rest of the rest of the laid-back numbers, sometimes with amusing obviousness. “Hole in the Ocean Floor” is more than eight minutes long and contains long, engaging passages of high-flying violin lines and swelling string harmonies, and yet none of the elements compete or sound forced. That laid-back vibe is more audible here than usual for a Bird release, as if the breakup has willed some of the structuralism away. “Lusitania” is a gorgeous ballad that forgoes the arrangements for simple guitar strumming and dueting help from Annie Clark (aka St. Vincent). It’s absolutely gorgeous and effortless, with a swell and particularly affecting vocal performance that brings to mind a Fleet Foxes track. Elsewhere the gentle strumming abounds: blissful electric work on “Lazy Projector,” or the drawling and appealingly sparse “Fatal Shore.”
If anything, this newfound shagginess is almost too much of a good thing; _Break it Yourself_ runs upwards of an hour. It’s not exactly exhausting (it’s too mellow for that), but it gives a picture of an artist bursting at the seams with creativity and emotion, never mind conciseness. If this approach is further explored with a bit of self-editing and more emotional openness, it’s no doubt a folk-rock masterpiece is in Bird’s near future.
