Bird Call


courtesy of Live Nation

It’s almost too convenient that Andrew Bird’s name is actually Andrew Bird: Anyone who’s listened to even one tune off of the four albums the Chicago-based singer-songwriter has put out would agree that his powers of whistling with an authentic twitter rival those of Snow White’s and her animated windowsill-dwelling friends too. And as if that weren’t enough reason to call his last name into question, Bird’s balladeer warble is damn near perfectly pitched—miraculously avoiding falling into the “sometimes too much of a good thing” category a’ la Rufus Wainwright.

But rather than dwell on the implausibility of a vocal talent lucking into such a prophetic name, I’m inclined to use the space I have left in this short blog entry to point to some convincing evidence of a different sort: The kind that, if you haven’t already, should compel you to buy both a copy of Bird’s latest album Armchair Apocrypha and then, snap up a ticket to his show at the Warfield on Dec. 8.  That evidence, friends, is posted for the world to see on the French website La Blogotheque (purveyors of all performances public, musical and impromptu). While in Paris for a show, Mr. Bird treated some fortunate bystanders to a strolling performance of his song “Spare-Ohs,” which, for me, has pretty much sealed the deal on what I’ll be doing on Dec. 8. Check it out here;  and hope to see you there.

Dec. 8 at the Warfield;
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