My Finest Work Yet
An old-guard indie darling nearing 50 is an unlikely place to look for political fire, and yet Andrew Bird — in contrast to the reclusive domesticity that characterized his last LP, 2016’s Are You Serious — is unabashedly, and successfully, throwing his hat in the ring with sharp, pointed prose and melodies that ring out in the soul. My Finest Work Yet is a folky reminder that yes, you can still sing (and even whistle) about the world’s problems. Even if you enjoy the white male privilege of opting in and out of the political arena, please, opt in — after all, as Bird sings on “Sisyphus,” “history forgets the moderates.”
“Sisyphus” is a good place for My Finest Work Yet to start: it reads like a thesis statement. Sisyphus was a mythological Greek king condemned to rolling a boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down right before the peak, and so on for eternity. Bird, through his ever-clever wordplay laden with internal rhymes and dictionary-necessitating diction, paints a portrait of Sisyphus, and in the process finds his canvas a mirror. Camus found the moment just before Sisyphus let the boulder roll down once more a corollary to man’s search for meaning — futile and yet ceaseless. Bird places himself, and his listeners, in Sisyphus’ position, in a constant struggle to find meaning in a demoralizing world — against a demoralizing government, perhaps. However, he finds this task one of human invention, singing, “It’s got nothing to do with fate / and everything to do with you.”
What is this struggle, you might ask? Well, Bird has an answer, and a clear one at that, in “Bloodless,” the jazzy seven-minute allegory that directly follows “Sisyphus.” Bird, over a viscous backing track of swampy drums, upright bass, and swelling strings, paints an extended comparison between the Spanish Civil War and today’s political crises. This could come off as cringy — I mean, he does wear a fedora — but it really works. Between the verses of history is a wonderful chorus that really drives the song home. Bird paraphrases Psalm 37 (trust me, it works!), singing, “Don’t you worry ‘bout the wicked / Don’t you envy those who do you wrong / And your innocence will be like the dawn / While the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun.” This careful balance of lucid storytelling and unrestrained calls-to-action make “Bloodless,” and the album as a whole, so great.
My Finest Work Yet is rife with beautiful, moving moments. “Manifest,” my favorite track, is an acoustic, existentialist question mark that paints a bitter-sweet portrait of the end of history. “Olympians” praises the resilience of those that speak truth to power; it’s optimistic without wandering into naivete. Bird shouts, “We’re gonna turn it around! / We’re gonna turn it around,” and by the end, you believe him.
Throughout My Finest Work Yet, the political and personal, the sincere and satirical, and the restrained and powerful dance over Bird’s trademark violin and whistling as songwriting that applies resin to your heartstrings and plays them, over and over. It’s music that deserves to be listened to outside. So, get out, put your earbuds in, and witness what you’re listening to. When you’re all riled up, hit pause, take them out, and get involved.
