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Andrew Bird enchants crowd at The Paramount
Multi-instrumentalist and whistler Andrew Bird took to the stage at the Paramount Theater last night backed only by a romantic, art-deco set of oversized gramophones. For those worried that the Chicago native would not be able to fill the massive space all by his lonesome, Bird quickly quieted their fears by starting his set with a couple of beautiful and haunting songs enhanced by his intricate looping and splendid bow play. The opening tune evoked feelings of a classical Russian piece, after which he picked up the pace with a darkly romantic jaunt that had wisps of the Emerald Isle.
Before one could wonder if they were going to actually hear Bird’s voice during the show, the musician stepped to the mic to thank the audience for letting him indulge himself in the enchanting acoustics of the Paramount, which he compared favorably to Carnegie Hall — no small praise. Given the sighs and moans of the women behind me, Bird had nothing for which to apologize. From the first notes, he had the sold-out crowd eating from his hand. Contrary to the concerns expressed to me by some before the show, Bird’s playing didn’t lull them to sleep, but rather entranced them into an ethereal state, making the audience as vulnerable as the music he would play.
Bird’s 90-minute set (and 20-minute encore), that included works from several of his albums (“Weather Systems,” “The Swimming Hour,” “Mysterious Production of Eggs,” “Armchair Apocrypha” and his latest “Noble Beast”) along with gospel cover “In My Time of Dying” and two Handsome Family songs, featured him re-working these songs, challenging the audience’s previous understandings of their pacing and structure. Each time I see Bird in concert, I see him anew. I’ve seen him play with only a drummer, with a full backing band and now solo. Each time his music took on a different feel, and none disappointed. Thursday night he was like a kid in a musical toy store, but a kid with the heart and soul of an earnest poet.
For someone who plays such delicate music and relies so heavily on the precocity of his whistling and endless looping, you may get the feeling that Bird is a bit of a self-indulgent music geek who may have the tendency to put you to sleep after awhile, but as he crooned, at times in half-spoken-word with smoky voice, and interspersed his virtuosic playing with self-effacing humor and charm to spare, it became clear that Bird has redefined what it means to be a sexy nerd. Just ask the hundreds (of men and women) who were left swooning outside of the Paramount following the show.
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