Possibly no-one was left unaffected amongst the lucky lot that made it to the Glasgow Classic Grand for Andrew Bird tonight in the final festive days of the Triptych era. The sheer purity of this one man symphony leaves a few eyes tear-swollen in an atmosphere likened to one’s own living room. Bird’s mostly-seated audience gazes on as this angelic virtuoso conducts the entire gig with his shoes kicked off, exposing a pair of colourfully-covered feet. Bird indeed confesses to being in “socks and slippers mode” and comfortably composes the songs as he goes along, looping everything from staggeringly beautiful violin verses to hand-claps to his own insanely perfect whistle that makes that surname of his all the more curious. This birdman is to whistling as Dylan is to his harmonica, an instrument that makes him and his music so distinguishable. When given the choice, the crowd begs for Sovay but he opts for the flawless ‘Armchairs’, a mix of melancholy and madness that has him screaming “You didn’t write, you didn’t call, it didn’t cross your mind at all” just before a quirky rendition of ‘Plasticities’ - both off last year’s Armchair Apocrypha. And as if in the company of old friends, Bird shares songs (’The Non-Animal’, ‘Section 8 City’) he confides to have recorded or written just recently. He’s soulful and he’s eccentric and he’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard or seen in a long time. I daresay I have never shed a tear at live show before but those tears were usually induced by a memory triggered, a person remembered and this time it’s the music alone; it’s Bird and all of the melodic and clever sounds he ingeniously makes while simultaneously melting the crowd with an amazing voice to boot. Who knows, maybe we’ll always remember Triptych and all the talent it has brought to Scotland but we will undoubtedly never forget this particular moment, ever.
//Kelly Smith
