if memory serves us then who owns the master?
i've been a great admirer of the many prodigious talents of andrew bird for quite some time now. however, if there was one characteristic that might have led me to feel a sense of detachment from his music, it might be that his lyrics could be so highbrow and cerebral that they could at times seem pedantic. don't get me wrong--i can and do appreciate the density of his lyrics, which are always interesting and often obscenely clever. but sometimes it's nice to just feel something, without having to look up words in the dictionary.
or, maybe he was just singing about things that i couldn't relate to. in any case, his latest album, break it yourself, seemed to change that perception for me. the cleverness and the wordplay are still in full effect, but this time there seems to be a more obvious vulnerability and pain, as if someone finally pissed off or hurt the guy who always made it look so easy. in particular is "lazy projector", an exquisitely crafted song about the tricks that our hearts sometimes play on our minds. it's a topic that i have related to all too well in the past (and, thankfully, not so much in the present), and established another reason why mr. bird is one of my very favorite artists.
andrew bird : "lazy projector"
from the lp break it yourself (mom+pop, 2012)
if memory serves us then who owns the master and how do we know who's projecting this reel and is it like gruel or like quick drying plaster tell me how long till the paint starts to peel is it like paramus or apollo or an archer we don't know? though history repeats itself and time's a crooked bow come on tell us something we don't know now who's the best boy and the casting director and the editor splicing your face from the scene it's all in the hands of a lazy projector that forgetting embellishing lying machine they say all good things must come to an end every day the night must fall but how it all came to this i simply can't recall too many cooks in the kitchen oh how the mighty must fall but i can't see the sense in us breaking up at all and it's all in the hands of a lazy projector that forgetting embellishing lying machine
Labels: andrew bird