The Top 10 Albums of 2009 -- #3 Noble Beast by Andrew Bird

If you've listened to Noble Beast already and didn't love it right away, I suggest putting on a pair of headphones and trying it again. In some ways, Bird's newest release is less overtly dramatic than his previous albums. That's not to say he doesn't still whistle like the wind and a saw and anything else a whistle can sound like. And he still shows off his beautiful violin skills and his impressive vocabulary. Even so, the theatricality of songs like "A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left" (from Andrew Bird & The Mysterious Production of Eggs) and "Fiery Crash" (from Armchair Apocrypha) aren't to be found here.

The subtlety of Beast should not be confused for boring, however. The album opens with "Oh No," which begins with dreamlike strings and whistles but quickly transitions to a catchy, pop number. "Masterswarm" features a latin-inspired rhythmic feel while "Effigy" begins with some amazing, eerily layered violin. "Not a Robot, but a Ghost" is noisy in a way that is unusual for Bird but is undeniably catchy. For me, the album's real high point (and the point at which you should really put on those earbuds if you haven't already) is "Anonanimal," which features Bird at his wordplay best: "I see a sea anemone, the enemy. See a sea anemone, and that'll be the end of me." Honestly, how can you not love a man who uses the phrases "tenderest of tendrils underneath her tender gills," "anomalous appendages," and "innocuous plecostomus though posthumous."

I would marry him for his alliteration and assonance alone. You know, were he to propose. I read one review that complained that Bird’s lyrics didn’t make any sense and left her with a headache. I say, just enjoy the sound and don’t over think it too much. Sometimes Bird’s lyrics make sense; sometimes it’s okay to just appreciate that “proto-Sanskrit Minoans to porto-centric Lisboans; Greek Cypriots and Hobis-hots who hang around in ports a lot, uh huh” (from “Tenuousness”) sounds really cool and leave it at that. Think of Andrew Bird as the Lewis Carroll of music and enjoy the whistling, catchy, alliterative ride.