Bowerbirds - 'Hymns For A Dark Horse' (Dead Oceans) 18/08/08

The natural world would can clearly do with some help from the appreciative and poetic turns of Bowerbirds. 'Hymns For A Dark Horse' embraces human frailty and provides a timely antidote for these manic times, a verse from 'the Marbled Godwit' in point -  "...I sip my tea and sniff the ocean...". Fronted by Phil Moore's melodic rise and fall vocals plus guitar, with Beth Tacular on accordion and Mark Paulson on violin and piano, Bowerbirds form a tripartite act melding shanty arias, Weillian-flecked pastorals, campfire songs, gypsy-folk, Appalachian wot-not, and Parisian Boulevard strolls.

With inspiration from U.S. poet Gary Snyder, Moore's song-craft weaves a strong sense of the inter-connectedness of humankind, the animal and nature kingdoms as well as a message ecologique - songs writhe to life in a story-telling tradition with a subtle nature-inspired message animated by leopard frogs, cockroaches, snails, crabs, krill and warblers. The Bowerbirds concoct a first-take minimal production ascetic which avoids the fineries of over-egging the pudding as musical elements of Andrew Bird, The Dodos, I'm From Barcelona, Port O'Brien and James Yorkston are found at work.

Look to 'In Our Talons' and 'Bur Oak' for originality and gusto - the former a Balkan gypsy treat with great singalong opportunities to Bowerbirds harmonies - "And the warbler sings - deet deet deet deet deet deet deet deet deet deet!..." telling of a natural world in fear; and the latter a celebratory campfire hymnal of nature and love with scattered timing and Moore joined on the chorus  - "...down by the bur oak tree/ I had lost your locket in the loam...". The poeticism of 'The Marbled Godwit' shows Moore's greatest lyrical strengths in communicating the contrasts of simple pleasures of smiles and toes in the water to our unquenchable thirst for oil and spoils - "...I grasp for my straw cap/ I'm lashed to my brave little raft/ the waves do toss this worthy vessel,/ impress on my tiny brain/ this strange and dangerous beauty...".

'Olive Hearts' bears many similarities to James Yorkston with Celtic airs and accordion, and the talk of "...we'll make helicopters in the sand...", yet there's a serious message to society bods trying drink their woes away - "...our glasses clink/ and our plastic swords stab our olive hearts...cheers to the nerve it takes to forget who we are...".  The lilting 'Hooves' forms a devotional aria to birth with Moore singing "...your the kindling still that burns below my haaarraarrrt..." and 'Slow Down' forms a daydreamy moment, a kind of "don't worry be happy", "feelin' groooovy!" with Moore singing "...at the base of the dunes with the algae bloom and the heron/ here we wait all day and wait for the tide to come crashing...".

The bar-room piano of 'Human Hands' talks of turning the other cheek - "...but I tip my hat and curtsy/ and I take no offence because there is no offence in your darkest cloud...", a mannered sentiment, but it does introduce an irritating clack beat of wood on wood (chair??) that resounds through tracks such as 'Dark Horse' and 'My Oldest Memory', the latter lifted by 3-part harmonies and a sauntering melody to accompany the memories of a 100 year old chap.

Sand, sun, sea and the little creeping things - Bowerbirds have got it going on in their backyard. Like the sweet morning call of the Blackbird or the Tui, Bowerbirds hold back the tsunami of the information age and like an messenger from the angelic realms, call, "hark, I bring good news!" The fact that Moore and Tacular currently abode in an Airstream trailer off-the-grid on the outskirts of Raleigh, N.C. adds to their home-on-the-range ethos that pervades their songs. Their indisputably gleeful sound would benefit a percussive section to proffer some flair and broaden their melodies, elsewise slump back and enjoy the rush of the surf!