I wrote this a while back, I must’ve
forgotten to publish it:
It doesn’t matter
whether he’s rocking his violin onstage in Coachella, or strumming his guitar
down Montmartre’s cobblestone roads, Andrew Bird has got the touch. Chances are
you’ve already heard him. You know the N82 ad, Storytelling Rediscovered?
That’s his magical music playing. I won’t say you’ll fall for it as I have,
because his work is what you would call an acquired taste. It’s not for
everyone. People say he sounds like an infusion of Buckley, Beck and The Beatles.
I asked
myself what it was about Bird’s music that attracted me so much. As I remember
it, there was no love the first time I sampled ‘Cataracts’ for good measure,
which is why I skipped the rest of his songs altogether. But there was
something that pulled me back, pushed me forward to give this man another try,
his music another chance. And strangely, I relented. I decided to consider this
peculiar man with his peculiar music a second time, albeit with some skepticism
and doubt. Ironic enough, now I’m hooked and I haven’t looked back since.
I can’t put my
finger down on what it is. (Neither can my siblings after hearing me put him on
for the 39974892th time). This is someone whose music I wouldn’t have given the
time of day, being the severely selective listener that I am. I’m completely
unsympathetic that way.
Come to think of it
now, I suspect that that’s the basis of its appeal – the fact that I was proven
very wrong about him. I like being pleasantly surprised.
I’ve dubbed him the
Sifu of Strings – he plucks a mean pizzicato, and no matter how much you try,
it’s difficult to pigeon-hole him into any one specific genre. I love his
multi-instrumental skills, his trademark whistling, how I have little idea of
what he’s singing about because this is a man who uses words like
‘formaldehyde’ in his songs but can somehow still retain some quality of
lyrical poetry. The subject matter of his songs varies from the environment to
the apocalypse. I love how he sounds better live than recorded (and believe me,
his recordings are already awesome), his versatility and originality when he’s
onstage because he’s like a one-man band, with the exception of Martin Dosh on
drums now and then, and the occasional bass player. He improvises continuously
so that no song sounds the same every time he plays it. He loops his music live
using foot pedals, laying out layers and layers of sound, and alternates
between violin, guitar, vocals, glockenspiel…he’s like Yann Tiersen with a
different style. And you can’t go wrong when you brandish a violin about while
wearing a three-piece suit. Barney would surely agree.
But most of all, the
basis of Bird’s appeal goes back to how I was proven wrong. It’s intriguing to
discover that you’re not done figuring yourself out yet, your tastes, your
interests, and your preferences. That’s what his music has done for me – it’s
dared me to go for something entirely beyond and altogether different from my
usual brand. I like that. I like that I’m still guessing what I’m like and what
I like, that I’m not done answering my individual identity riddle. There’s
still some room left for exploration.
I think in this
regard, people and music should be treated alike.
Isn’t it maddening
when people form an opinion on others based on first impressions and just leave
it at that? That’s especially so when the first impressions aren’t favourable.
I often wonder why we’re moulded in such a way as to always think the worst of
people. We have these tendencies to arrive at conclusive judgments, and refuse
to follow up to see if we have erred. Why do we take pleasure in the flaws of
others? Are we really that deluded into thinking we’re all the better for it?
If so, we couldn’t be more wrong.
I think one of our
most major human faults is our pride, and refusing to admit when we’re wrong
about someone.
Sometimes people are
so sure they know everyone else exceedingly well. They make never-ending
assumptions and presumptions which they see as infallible truths. But if people
like me aren’t done figuring out who we are ourselves, how does it follow that
others would know us better? It’s a fact that we’re prone to misunderstanding,
just as we’re prone to being misunderstood.
It’s also a fact
that the surface of any person can be deceiving. There are people who will have
us fooled. It’s like a magic trick – a slight of hand, a turn of cards, you
think you have it all worked out, but are you watching closely? For sacrifice
is the price of a good trick, and there are some who’d rather pay that price
than have others know who they really are.
Don’t let first impressions
or hearsay hinder you from getting to know people, because you may miss out on
something that has potential to be staggeringly great. It would be just as how
I had almost missed out on Andrew Bird.
I suppose what I’m really
trying to say is that sometimes, people can surprise you in a good way.
You just have to
learn how to let them.
(And just for the
record, this isn’t an attempt to promote Bird’s music so that I can set
up a strong fan base in Malaysia big enough to have him come play here. The thought never crossed my mind. Heh.)
Enough said here.
