Andrew Bird's Highflying Folk

Before gigs, Andrew Bird paces. His head twitches slightly. He gets superstitious, too: On past tours, Bird felt he had to drink an espresso exactly 90 minutes before showtime and misspell certain song titles in a blocky script when he wrote out a set list. "For a while I spelled the song 'Measuring Cups' as 'Measurink Kups,'" he says. "I told myself, 'If I don't do these things, I'll have a bad show.'"

Bird's peculiarities extend to his music: The 35-year-old Chicago native is a classical-trained violinist who writes lyrics that refer to arcane subjects like mitosis and Cypriots; likes to whistle both onstage and on record; and can compose nearly complete songs in his head, often while driving.

On his newest — and prettiest — album, Noble Beast, Bird leans heavily on his handsome croon and the meticulously arranged string parts. The songs range from simple folk to chamber music to wonkier stuff — including "Not a Robot, but a Ghost," which sounds like a jazz quintet doing a Radiohead impression. The sound isn't a huge departure from his earlier, ornate albums, but the material is less dense and more pastoral; he sounds less afraid of gorgeous, slow-moving melodies. The result is Bird's most tuneful and accessible album yet — and one that could significantly increase his fan base.

Noble Beast, his sixth solo album, is getting roughly twice the marketing push his last one got. His label even worked out a deal to sell the album at Target.

Bird cut Noble Beast mostly in Nashville but also at the Chicago loft owned by his hometown buddies in Wilco. Bird broke up with a longtime girlfriend while working on Beast and put in marathon recording sessions he calls "four-day benders." Much of that time was spent keeping Beast direct and concise. "That requires repression, but in a good way," Bird says. "I'm still driven by the idea of writing a song that's gonna get everybody singing."

"This album feels airy and full of space, which I like," says Bird's buddy Jim James of My Morning Jacket, with whom Bird toured in the earlier part of this decade. "Andrew's a complex motherfucker, and no one else sounds like him."

In person, Bird is usually soft-spoken and ruminative. Although he can be wryly funny, he allows that he's "a pretty classic introvert." During lunch, he mentions that James — at whose New York apartment Bird is currently crashing — gave him some advice about dealing with demanding people on tour: "'Just remember the windshield wipers,'" says Bird, quoting James and waving his middle fingers back and forth. "Know when to say, 'Fuck everybody.'" Then, as if realizing he could never pull off that kind of behavior, Bird chuckles and adds, "I guess that's not my style."