I was sick as a dog last night and had to send friend of the blog Max Power to the Andrew Bird show at the miniature Union Hall. (Which was fine because had I seen the way they misspelled "tonight" on the chalkboard outside the bar I would have CRACKED SKULLS.) Here are his reflections:
Spellbinding. This is the fourth time I've seen AB (myspace) and somehow I always forget to bring a bib; all I can do is stand there entranced and slackjawed, T-shirt damp with drool.
I was right in front of the stage for his set at Bonnaroo (watch the high water mark of my song-requesting career here; that's me Bird's talking to) and front & center last time he played Bowery Ballroom. But nothing can really top seeing one of your favorite bands in a space smaller than a basement rec room. You could have stood in the back by the bar and played ping-pong with AB from there.
Indeed, AB quipped that the stage was so small someone was probably going to get decapitated. (Why couldn't it have been the girl in front of me who kept chattering on and on and on to her boyfriend during EVERY song about how/why she LOVED the very song she lacked the attention span to actually LISTEN TO for more than 20 seconds without COMMENTING/YELLING. "Someday we'll get back at the all. / With epoxy and a pair of pliars".)
Fortunately I was close enough to the speakers that her blathering was reduced to 'ants at a picnic' level irritant. Personal highlight was probably Armchairs, off the new album. Oh and Dear Dirty, which was devastating. Not to take anything away from the overwhelming Scythian Empire, either. And how could I omit Plasticities?... Okay, the highlight was everything. AB & Co. shit Tiffany cufflinks.
It's interesting that despite the near-masterpiece that is Mysterious Production of Eggs, he seems to have pretty much abandonded his older material. The new album is exquisite, so no complaints. But a ballsy move, nonetheless, especially from a guy who seems to have such a shy, self-conscious personality.
Andrew Bird plays Letterman tonight. Someone in the room asked him if he was excited about it, and he said, "Yeah, if by excitement you mean pure terror."
(After the jumping see the set list & more photos by Roboppy, who wrote about it on her weblog The Oh So Quiet Show. Daily Refill was there; a big thank you to her for annointing Max Power her Plus One. I'd steal her pics but GIFs don't agree with my deal here for some reason.)
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