Review Summary: Transport yourself…
Growing up surrounded by classical music, Andrew Bird has always had a unique take on the effects of sound, from how notes are formed to exactly where they can reach within a room. Even as a child, Bird likened sound waves to an extension of one’s own body, like a limb that can reach out and touch anyone willing to listen. He would manipulate instruments to test their reach in various settings, and adjust his music to maximize its effect. Then, as he got older, he began to see the environment as a crucial element of
all music, not just an obstacle that required overcoming. I suppose that’s how Andrew found himself recording in a canyon in 2015. The obvious question of “why?” is an important one, as it lends credence to the concept that will underscore
at least the next few years of Andrew Bird’s musical career. You see,
Canyon is only the first installment in the
Echolocations series, with
River,
City,
Lake, and
Forest all yet to come. The idea is to see how different settings (from rural canyons to urban streets) affect each piece, ranging from the impact it has on listeners all the way down to scientific aural findings. It’s one of the more interesting concepts to arise within the folk genre, and it will almost certainly make waves over the coming years as it progresses.
Echolocations: Canyon finds us at the inception of this vastly ambitious project and, more specifically, in the depths of the Coyote Gulch canyons of Utah.
The effects of the recording environment can be felt from the very onset of
Canyon. The album foregoes vocals, and despite utilizing little more than a violin, whistling, and the occasional sound of flowing water, it’s surprisingly rich within its context. Take ‘Sweep The Field’ for instance, which welcomes listeners with melancholic violins over the faint sound of a river. The appeal of instrumental music has always been defined by its ability to remain open to interpretation, and that sense is definitely given off here. One can visualize the rolling hills of Ireland in the sprightly strings of ‘Groping In The Dark’, while ‘The Return of Yawny’ beckons listeners to soar high above the clouds, circling a panoramic view of the world below. What separates musicians from artists is the ability to invoke entirely unique feelings and thoughts from the exact same body of work. It may be obvious where
Canyon was recorded, but it is capable of transporting your mind anywhere. Andrew Bird’s compositions merely facilitate your deepest thoughts and desires –
you are the one who gives it meaning. Thus, on
Echolocations: Canyon, Andrew Bird is a true artist. In an era where music is dominated by genres, scenes, etc., it can be refreshing to listen to something that isn’t really
supposed to be anything at all.
With that sense of liberation, of course, comes some unavoidable pitfalls.
Canyon (just like the whole
Echolocations series) is more of an experiment than it is an actual attempt to create memorable songs. There are moments of sheer brilliance, such as the eclectic and unpredictable percussion methods of ‘Antrozous’, but there are also times where the music just seems to happen whilst leaving you completely unaffected. ‘Rising Water’, for example, sounds heavy-hearted and emotional, but is tedious and ultimately goes nowhere. The
Echolocations series is more about experiencing the music, visualizing it in your mind, and seeing what you gain from that experience – there is no right or wrong way to interpret it. Such is modern art. With that said, one thing that
can be critiqued is the approach. In the past, we’ve heard Andrew Bird inject more of a human side to his music, such as on 2011’s
Break It Yourself, where he included vaguely relatable lines like “we’re mistaking clouds for mountains now.” This isn’t meant to imply that
Canyon would have been better off with vocals and lyrics, but there are certainly moments throughout the experience that focus too heavily on the “scientific” side of the experiment and not enough on the warm, down-to-earth side. It
can be done instrumentally, and Bird has demonstrated the ability himself both on
Canyon as well as previous on endeavors. However, to expect a fifty minute instrumental opus to be constantly and simultaneously artistic
as well as relatable is stretching it for just about anyone. In other words, it’s less a criticism of Andrew Bird and more an indictment of the style of music that he pursues here.
Echolocations: Canyon is a worthy beginning to a very intriguing project. I’d liken it to a painting, as it possesses inherent artistic qualities that cannot be qualified as either good or bad. Even more so than most music (which is already subjective),
Canyon is one hundred percent open to individual interpretation. Chances are, if you enjoy music that symbolizes nature and even incorporates sonic elements of it in the recording, you will find this album to be amazingly transcendental. From the way the album is constructed to
where it was made, it is incredibly easy to lose yourself in. When that’s the case, there’s a lot to be gained from the experience. However, the painting metaphor may also decrease its musical appeal to many listeners – it isn’t very memorable, it sure as hell was never meant to be catchy, and if you have no interest in the concept behind
Echolocations, then there is very little reason to endure some of the album’s meandering, overlong moments.
Canyon was an album made in the moment, and it is best listened to that way. It has the capability to invoke some incredible imagery, especially in a natural sense – but as we all know, art can’t be forced.
