Andrew BIrd Lands in the Valley at Harlows, Downtown Sacramento

By Greg Kucera
Contributing Writer
May 2, 2007


Chicago-based Andrew Bird and company flocked into the dim lit, art deco inspired Harlow’s on Wednesday night, on the cool spring gusts of wind that had simultaneously descended into the valley. Up from San Francisco, before migrating north to Portland, OR, Bird’s stop in Sacramento was in promotion of his new album entitled, Armchair Apocrypha.

The floor was surprisingly crowded, with the masses huddled like elementary school children sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce for opener Jean Smith. Smith’s music, as well as his voice are run of the mill folk-inspired, serving as testament to the genre’s much deserved bad name. I have seen open-mics with more energy than Smith’s set. As he announced his final song, a loud sigh of relief could be heard from patrons that had been staring into their beers for the majority of his set.

The lull between performers allowed the grumbling crowd to stretch their legs and refill their cups, as their anticipation for Bird’s set grew. After all, they had not postponed their early Wednesday bedtimes to be sung lullabies by a sub-par folk-rocker. The center of the floor quickly became a huddled mass of sweating bodies as the curtains were drawn to reveal a man sitting behind the five piece drum set, tinkering with the organ to his left, while laying down a steady beat on the bass drum.

The stage was adorned with Zebra striped phonographs as a dreamlike sonic landscape began to reverberate off Harlow’s tall ceilings. The swell of sounds reached a crescendo as Bird unassumingly ascended the back steps of the stage. His lanky Ichabod Crane body stood tall as his left hand unbuttoned the top button of his blazer, before plucking the bow of his violin from his right. Suddenly, the sea of sound stopped,and without addressing or even acknowledging the audience, Bird raised his bow to his violin and began to play.

A hush came over the crowd as Bird’s eerie Hungarian-esque notes drifted over their heads. Like a man possessed, his fingers rallied over the fret board, with closed eyes and a hurricane-like sway, he ravished the violin trance-like and determined. Seemingly, just as he had started, like some mysterious musical zombie, Bird stops, opens his eyes and proclaims, “I’ve never been to Sacramento before, I don’t know why. (Silence) This next song is called, ‘Fiery Crash.’”

The marvel that is Bird, is to witness him play live. He fluidly moves between multiple instruments in the coarse of one song: from guitar, to violin, to vibraphone and then to his ghost-like whistle, all the while his tenor voice holds the song together like ultra-literate glue. His genius is his ability to sample himself live, layering a violin track underneath bony tremolo guitar lines and haunting vocals, while the accompanying drummer and bassist follow his every note with machine like precision. What Arcade Fire accomplishes with nine band members, Bird nearly orchestrates by himself, with part of the charm lying in the live song building of acute instrumentation.

Bird’s most impressive performance of the evening was a solo rendition of his song “Why?” With violin rested firmly beneath his chin, he passionately began playing a somber sonata of soul weeping tones, before vocally launching into a dialogue of a lover’s quarrel. Dropping his violin to his side, and wailing over his self sampled music, Bird’s hands raise in apparent frustration to an absent apparition at the back of the room. “Don’t try and tell me an action is not a crime, can’t you see what kind of seeds you’re sewing? Damn you for being so easy going!”

Andrew Bird holds the stage uninhibited, yet modest. He appears unaware of the wanton audience before him, as he is seemingly lost in the music he effortlessly executes. To label him as folk or even pop for that manner, is extremely limiting, as he intertwines Baroque violin parts over hip-hop beats and Cowboy Junky style lyricism. Perhaps it is the anomaly of lack of genre that helps garner his strong fan base, coupled with his violent/cathartic/serene stage presence. Either way if there is one thing to be said about Andrew Bird, it is that he is genuine.