Andrew Bird holds a special place in my heart. Whenever I hear his distinct sound and poetic lyrics, I am overwhelmed with memories of my wedding. While preparing to marry my husband in 2014, Bird’s albums Armchair Apocrypha and Noble Beast set a perfect atmosphere for a room full of mimosas, vintage lace and pearl necklaces. Coincidentally, Bird’s concert at Boston’s Wang Theatre on April 9, 2016 marked 7 years from the date that I met my now husband.
Bird self-released his first solo album, Music of Hair, in 1996. As a classically trained violinist who is a proficient guitarist, glockenspiel player, and whistler, he has reached an array of audiences. His first song at the Wang “Capsized,” opened with smooth legato violin bowing that transitioned to pizzicato. The audience, made up of fans ranging from 20 to 60, responded wildly. Plaid shirts, beards, suspenders and genuine elation filled the Wang Theatre. Bird’s familiar smoky voice filled the room, backed by a funky, head-nodding swing encouraging everyone in the venue to groove.
Bird’s quartet followed the opener with “Lusitania.” Bird silenced the room with his golden whistle, as if steering rays of sound directly at the audience. The sound was so pure that in closing your eyes you might be taken to a space of no distractions, just a solitary world of contentment.
Bird’s new album, Are You Serious, was the focus for the rest of the night, as it heavily incorporates the entire ensemble. “Puma,” from the new record, was a more intense and energetic number that made audience members move in their seats, and was accompanied by flashing bright lights inducing some to put on their sunglasses. Bird played the album’s title track with such rigor that by the end of the song a handful of bow strands frayed and were dangling. He acknowledged this immediately, claiming that at this rate, he might only get through that night’s performance. This light-hearted joke received a roar of praise from the crowd.
The encore was not climactic, but rather Bird decided to take an intimate route, invoking a folky, bluegrass sound. The quartet gathered in a tightly knit half circle and performed “Give It Away,” making one long for an isolated campsite under a blanket of stars during a meteor shower. In this moment, my husband and I turned to each other, as if mesmerized, laughed and understood what the other was reminiscing about: our wedding day.
