ANDREW BIRD’S BOWL OF FIRE
The Swimming Hour
Rykodisc / Palm
· Bird’s new directions akin to flying North for the winter.
When accomplished artists make stylistic changes, it’s sometimes difficult for the dedicated fan to keep pace. Do you applaud the artist’s decision to risk reputation for innovation? Or do you allow preconceived notions of a band’s distinguishing characteristics to dictate your approach to all of their subsequent work?
With respect to The Swimming Hour, Andrew Bird, bandleader of Bowl of Fire, seems to have lost his marbles. The group’s previous two albums were rife with thrilling homages to Hot Club jazz and eastern European folk traditions, while Bird himself seemed possessed by the spirit of Stephane Grappelli – no small feat for an up-and-coming violinist.
The Swimming Hour, on the other hand, sees Bird and his band veering wildly into a variety of new styles, most notably garage rock and soul, as if they were trying to make a pop album with an edge of gypsy jazz. Unfortunately, it’s not even interesting as an experiment – genres clash gratingly and, as the loud, obnoxious record comes to a close, Bird barely salvages his dignity.
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