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ANDREW BIRD & THE MYSTERIOUS PRODUCTION OF EGGS
SELF-TITLED
Nick Sylvester
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Former Squirrel Nut Zipper Andrew Bird’s got Bends-era Radiohead down pretty well for a roots guy. Bird’s latest batch recalls when creeping Thom wrote songs about how he wished he were special instead of trying to prove he was. Okay computers are better than none at all, but when that band agreed to Grade-A intercourse with Floydisms, we got stuck with the Kid. So what if nobody’s gonna synch Mysterious Production of Eggs to The Wizard Of Oz (let alone The Wiz — that’s the new trick I'm hearing). Bird still boasts the best of blue Yorke: his nasally pipes, his seemingly lost proclivity for tiny surprises (check the subtle, noble "Fake Palindromes"), and that techno-apocalyptic way with words. As Bird puts it, "When you look up at the sky, all you see are zeros and ones." Plus he’s got a violin — not the kind precious indie collectives pull out hoping to be taken seriously. He whistles Western quite well too, without an effects pedal in sight.
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