Andrew Bird - Noble Beast

As this, his eighth studio album, is released, Bird has built up a formidable reputation as a live performer. On stage, he juggles all manner of instruments. Extremely proficient on the violin, he uses an effects pedal to loop musical phrases, building up layer upon layer of sound. If you’ve seen the busker with the purple electric violin in the centre of York, you know the technique already.

The intricate layered textures he constructs are so mesmerising as to be hypnotic, which is a mixed blessing; whilst the precision of his tone and technical excellence produce an often wonderful aesthetic invention, a whole song can pass by without leaving any particular impression. For better or worse – indeed, for better and worse – Noble Beast provides the best studio reproduction of this live style yet.

In spite of his layering technique often remaining the same, there is plenty of variety on show here. Opener ‘Oh No’ is immediately welcoming due to a warm combination of acoustic guitar and violin accompanying Bird’s note-perfect whistling, whereas ‘Masterswarm’ opens like a José González track, before a syncopated blend of violin and gentle handclaps develops.

Some of the best moments come when otherworldly loops take centre stage. In ‘Effigy’, a penetrating rhythmic miniature is a wonderful introduction, before an unrelated and relatively inconsequential ballad turns up. ‘Not A Robot, But A Ghost’ starts up with engaging clicky percussion, whistling and clarinets, leading to sections of shuffling brushed drums, dissonant string chords and glissandi.

Bird’s love of verbal trickery characterises many of his songs; at his best, he revels in producing unexpected and entertaining internal rhymes. ‘Tenuousness’ contains lyrics about diverse characters ‘from proto-Sanskrit Minoans to porto-centric Lisboans’, whilst Bird opens ‘Anonanimal’ by spinning the tongue-twister: ‘see a sea anemone, the enemy; see a sea anemone and that’ll be the end of me’.

The latter comes together beautifully, the combination of pizzicato loops and bowed notes ebbing and flowing beneath the vocal melody, which travels up and down scales as if carried on the ocean. However, at their most deliberately ornate, Bird’s lyrics push the boundary between smartness and pretension to breaking point. In both his words and his musicianship, there occasionally lingers an air of trying too hard, and it can be frustrating to hear decent songs becoming over-complicated by quirks.

Without question, Noble Beast exhibits a strange charm, and is frequently a pleasure to listen to. However, like one of his live shows, it displays Andrew Bird’s paradoxical skill for producing performances which are compelling, yet often underwhelming.

Noble Beast is out on Monday 2 February.

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