Andrew Bird, Weather Systems (Righteous Babe/Grimsey, 2003)

Andrew Bird first came to public attention in the mid-90s as a guest violinist with the swing revivalists Squirrel Nut Zippers. Since then, the Chicago native has put out four solo albums, three backed by his own neo-swingers, the Bowl of Fire. On his earlier releases, particularly 1997's Thrills and 1999's Oh! The Grandeur, his abundance of energy and enthusiasm were a wonder to behold and made for some excellent music, but also occasionally threatened to derail the works. On Weather Systems, Bird steps out on his own in a major change of direction and sound.

Languid, atmospheric music is the order of the day, with nary a swing in sight. This is beautiful music, somehow lush and sparse at the same time. Lush, in that the strings are layered and sometimes looped, the vocals are airy, light and echo-laden; sparse in its generally stripped-down instrumentation: just Bird on violins and vocals, Nora O'Connor on backing vocals and guitar, producer Mark Nevers on "space guitar," and Kevin O'Donnell on drums and percussion.

The term "chamber pop" gets tossed around a lot lately, but it seems to particularly fit Weather Systems. There's something in the sound and feel of this record that remind me of Elton John's Tumbleweed Connection; perhaps it has that same kind of poetic, intimate Americana-pop vibe, sans the piano, of course. The album dabbles in jazzy textures and improvisations, and veers into classical territory, particularly in its frequent use of pizzicato and tremelo techniques on the violin.

The album opens with Bird whistling over tremeloed violin and guitar on "First Song," which includes a snippet of a 1960 poem of the same title by Galway Kinnell, which Bird recites over pizzicato playing.

Bird's vocals are much more steady here than on his previous efforts; more studied, less spontaneous, and more often in the right key. And his choice of Nora O'Connor as a backup singer was just right. Their voices -- his a slightly honeyed tenor, hers sharp-edged and in the high alto range -- mesh perfectly. I just wish he didn't sound quite so much like early-solo-period Sting, which he does particularly on "I," a series of non-sequitur lyrics, and on "Action/Adventure," which culls pop-culture cliches.

"Skin" is a fascinating bit of faux-Sixties lounge jazz, all plucked strings, whistles and fuzz bass. It's one of several "vignettes," instrumental and otherwise, that are billed as fragments of a "larger work in progress."

The tracks that work best are "Lull" and the title track. "Lull" shows the kind of quirky creativity that was so much a part of his late 90s work, but it's a fully realized and mature work. A string quartet sound lays behind Bird's plucked violin and brushed snares tapping out a jig-like rhythm. Bird slurs out the lyrics in a close duet with O'Connor on a complex, jazzy melody line. The lyrics are full of nautical imagery about being becalmed and "in a lull": "I'm all for moderation, but sometimes it seems/moderation itself can be a kind of extreme."

"Weather Systems" is a dense piece, lyrically and musically. It's a poetic examination of a relationship, ranging from an up-close examination of a lover to the larger-scale phenomenon of a storm, whether literal or metaphoric. Bird sings and plays on violin in unison on another complicated melody line that also mirrors the ups and downs of a relationship.

The final song is a cover of former Chicagoans the Handsome Family's "Don't Be Scared," (the opening track from 2000's In the Air) which also draws on images of extreme weather and its effects on people. Another instrumental track finishes this short CD, this one filled with cinematic loops, thudding tom-toms and glockenspiel tinkling.

Weather Systems is an adventurous, idiosyncratic recording, a worthy if at times puzzling chapter in Bird's recorded legacy. Bird seems to be coming ever closer to finding his true voice, and it's always entertaining to listen in as he follows his muse.

The CD also contains a Quicktime movie that's about 10 minutes long. It's an entertaining and enlightening short documentary about the making of the album that quite suitably informs and enlarges on the recording itself. The segment showing Bird and O'Connor laying down the vocal track for "Lull" is particularly impressive. (Requires Quicktime 6.0 or later.)