Catherine Avenue is the album Rilo Kiley could’ve wowed the world with if Jenny Lewis and Co. learned the art of subtlety. Biirdie—L.A. residents Jared Flamm (guitar, vocals), Kala Savage (keyboard, vocals) and Richard Gowen (drums)—has perfected the countrified story-song, rooting its pastoral ’70s-pop in orchestral crescendos and lush harmonies. The lyrics are revealing (“Who were you thinking of when we were making love last night? Was it a good-looking stranger or a close friend of mine?”) without being embarrassing. Musically, Biirdie moves between genres like the best of them, but the changes grow naturally within each song, as opposed to the jilting country/synth/ballad shift that occurs from song to song on Rilo Kiley’s Under The Blacklight. Rather, the focus of Biirdie’s sophomore album is on buoyant, sunshiny epics told through Fleetwood Mac-style harmonies that often tinkle into a banjo boogie or swell to climbing, distorted power chords a la the Who. A sense of place roots the LP in dreamy reflection, but it’s Flamm’s voice, which rests somewhere between Jason Lytle’s airy tenor and Conor Oberst’s confessional quaver, that’s oddly affecting. [www.loveminuszero.net]
—Jessica Parker
