Dancing with myself to architecture

Late last January, I found myself suffering a not uncommon bout of insomnia. As usual, I addressed it by navigating through MP3 blogs in the hope that the persistent buzz would lull me to sleep. It was around 3am that I darkened the doorstep of You Ain’t No Picasso. Front and centre on the website was “Corazon” – a song slated for inclusion on the first of a series of monthly EPs to be self-recorded and released by indie combo Bishop Allen. Never one to let a novel concept (or conceptual novel, for that matter) leave me unmoved, I exclaimed, “An EP a month for an entire year? This I gotta hear.” and magicked payment details to an apartment in Brooklyn.

Of course, I already possessed a passing knowledge of Bishop Allen. Four months earlier, I’d seen the band’s singer/guitarist Justin Rice act in Andrew Bujalski’s superb Mutual Appreciation. While most of the film was steeped in social awkwardness, strained conversations and skin-crawling anxiety, it mustered one moment imbued with immediacy and abandon. That occurred when listless, laconic singer/guitarist Alan (Rice) took to a NYC stage and was utterly transfigured as he spat and jittered his way through the convulsive “Quarter to Three” (from Bishop Allen’s debut, Charm School).

Upon further examination, “Corazon” revealed itself to be more than just a melodic curiosity. In actual fact, the track was an exemplary piece of autobiographical songwriting that enchantingly documented Rice and bandmate Christian Rudder’s discovery of an abandoned piano. (“Since they cancelled music class, you’ve been a refugee.”) As Rice toyed with the unfamiliar instrument, he uncovered new sounds and songs. (“I was caught, I was stuck; And my thoughts kept on deepening the rut; Until your first chord struck… You’ve given me another chance to learn.”) The songwriting partners soon found themselves in the throes of unprecedented inspiration.

Writing at a pace that traditional modes of music distribution couldn’t keep up with, Rice and Rudder opted to take on the audacious monthly EP project. Simply writing, recording and releasing upwards of fifty songs in a year would intimidate anyone this side of Stephin Merritt or Rob Pollard. Yet, Bishop Allen further challenged themselves by pledging to become a better, if not altogether different, band with each EP instalment.

Witnessing Rice and Rudder mature musically was a listening experience unlike any other I’d ever been privy to. Every four weeks, you could hear the untrained musicians building upon the experiences of previous efforts. The tentative, basic piano lines of January became full-fledged ivory-tinkling by October. They learned banjo in March and ukulele in April. Flourishes of strings, horns, Wurlitzer and glockenspiel began to appear more regularly and with greater assurance. At the microphone, the routinely clever Rice developed into a top flight lyricist as he crafted countless entrancing narratives and cast himself as a myriad of protagonists.

While Rice’s skilful wordplay remained a constant, Bishop Allen’s dozen discs saw them exploring every musical avenue at their disposal. “Click Click Click” (July) highlighted the group’s deft pop sensibility. “Like Castanets” (September) seemed like an exotic keepsake carted back from a foreign sojourn. Delicate “Butterfly Nets” (May) had the twee-o-meter redlining, and “St. Ivan’s Day School” (October) drunkenly swung and staggered. Ethereal fare such as “Flight 180” (April) evidenced the heights Bishop Allen were capable of ascending to.

On December’s closing “Calendar,” Rice intones, “All that I’ve done is written right here.” As impressive as their 2006 body of work might be, the EPs were but the beginning for Bishop Allen. Dead Oceans will release Bishop Allen and the Broken String on July 24. The band’s sophomore album will feature new songs such as “Rain”, as well as “definitive” versions of nine of the EP tracks.

Whittling more than 50 candidates down to nine selections let some of favourites on the cutting room floor. Conspicuous by their absence are made-for-a-mixtape “Queen of the Rummage Sale” (February), more-fun-than-a-snowball-fight “Winter Coat” (March), shout-along “The Same Fire” (June), bittersweet “The Envy of the Bees” (November), fists-in-the-air “Last Chance America” (December) and droves of other worthy candidates.

Fret not, fair readers. All of the EPs remain available for purchase at www.bishopallen.com. I can honestly say that my year has been better for having known each and every one of them.

HEY KIDS!
I have surplus copies of Bishop Allen’s July, September and November EPs to give away. Simply answer: “Who played temp Mitchell in Andrew Bujalski’s Funny Ha Ha?” The first three people to get to curtisw@toothanddagger.com with the correct response receive a shiny four-song platter.