Over the past decade and a half, Andrew Bird’s brilliance has led him to explore a multitude of styles, his compositions finding unsteady roots in folk, rock, indie, and jazz. His newly released Noble Beast is no different, boasting remarkable vocals that weave between ever-present violin shrills, ear-tickling whistles, and abstract imagery. Bird’s mastery of a solemn, introspective style of painterly music involves a unique method of recording and layering different instrumental parts on top of each other, sometimes before live audiences. Although his eighth album does not stray far from Armchair Apocrypha and The Mysterious Production of Eggs stylistically, Bird nonetheless finds new ground to explore with his ornamental and unmistakably unique pieces. 

”Oh No” opens the album with a convivial, lighthearted tone only to devour it with a faster tempo; dueling violins trill and stretch, clinging to each note affectionately. Claps and whistles make their appearance in every song and Bird plucks at the violin to steady the beat. The dynamic, Radiohead-esque “Not a Robot, But a Ghost” scuttles through chanted verses atop deep piano chords. 

The structure of the album can be somewhat problematic, though. The unconventional tendency to vary the intros to songs with the rest of the piece, although melodically appealing, serves to break up overlapping tunes rather than segue or link them. He also concludes songs this way, burying a mini-song within actual tracks. “Ouo” and “Unfolding Fans” are their own instrumentally focused tracks, but are mostly a distraction.  

The true marvel of Noble Beast does not shine until track 10, just in time for a foot-tapping climax. “Anonanimal” opens with piercing violin overtones that deliver an unstable melody while Bird sings, “I see a sea anemone, the enemy, see a sea anemone, and that’ll be the end of me.” The first verse’s gentle aura fades away into near silence when a sudden beat launches the track into a harmonic, waltzy duet between two violin parts. They die out as suddenly as they come to life, while rambling guitar work turns entropic beneath soothing vocals. Following this, the album mellows out, with delicate tunes giving way to lyrics that prove to be as much of a draw as the lush instrumentals.
Ultimately, amidst the electric jingles, intertwining violins, resonating whistles, and unusual retro lyrics, Noble Beast gets lost in itself. Despite having unique parts, the same elements are used over and over, making it hard to differentiate between melodies. However, each song by itself is creatively designed and elegantly carried out. Nowadays you don’t need to be a skilled musician to make good music, but with Noble Beast, it is clear that musicianship is essential.