There’s a great leap between that passing acquaintance with an album and one that invokes a deep emotional attachment. The latter is more likely when it concurs with some momentous life event, when both words and music dovetail with significant resonance. And so it came to be, that’s exactly what happened to me with the exquisite ‘Year of the Bird’ by Oliver Cole.
Here’s how the penny dropped: I’d listened through a few times casually and found it both intriguing and pleasant, but wasn’t fully picking up on either the poetry or the artistry therein. I was listening cross-legged on the bed of a tiny London hotel room – the sort where the walls start closing in. I was feeling lonesome and my soul was post-partum sore. I’d just abandoned my ethereal child at her Bloomsbury Halls of Residence – first day of university. It was the end of life as we knew it; new beginnings – that curious mix of fear and fascination, awe and angst. We’d promised not to cry.
It was the next morning when ‘Year of the Bird’ dawned on me, with all my senses heightened by its emotional intensity.
It’s a rare Monday morning to have time on my hands. World Peace Day, almost equinox; the Prime Minister and the Hog’s Head. Monday 21st September 2015, leaving my wide-eyed innocent in the midst of this manic-city madness. There’s a café in Russell Square where, ears plugged in, I can sit serenely and listen very carefully.
Autumnal manoeuvres in the park (leaves falling, people passing, pigeons pecking – that sort of park life thing). If albums have seasons, then ‘Year of the Bird’ is definitively autumn – reflective, mellow, wistful, mystical.
Half-light, half-dark – earthy yet celestial, yin and yang – it’s the life cycle. Somehow by default, it’s infinitely eternal – the alpha and omega, whether that’s intentional or not – by beginning with ‘Helium Heart’, and ending with ‘Helium Heart Intro’, hence the beginning is the end and vice versa. I like this concept.
I’m hooked to ‘Helium Heart’ from the start, on account of being an emotional fish at the best of times.
I try hard to stay grounded but I’m off on one. A song about honesty and integrity, with a dash of insanity. He has a helium heart and it’s tethered to her tin foil anchor – sweet, yet strange theatrical imagery. Enter stage left angelic aaahs and guitar riffs to make this quite majestic. Something in here reminds me of Conor O’Brien and Villagers. Or maybe, that’s just me and my helium head off on one again – because I even entertained the thought that the country rock vibe of ”Magnolia’ could be what a curious collaboration by Neil Young and Don Henley might sound like (and I’d only had one Americano, well, maybe two).
The beautiful, intricate melodies of ‘I’ll Be Your Shelter’ and ‘Golden Leaf’ unfurl like celestial wings. A heavenly, other-worldly quality that gently surrender to the listener – a unique skill from a more-than-talented songwriter.
There’s a distinctly sixties, subtle psychedelic vibe – a dream-weaving, meanandering, visionary collection reminiscent at times of Nick Drake.
The title ‘Year of the Bird’ suggests the artist is wide-open to the influences of nature, mysticism, Eastern philosophy, the life cycle. The cover image is intriguing and worth close inspection – a swallow murmuration, a full moon, a peculiar magpie perched on a strange fruit – a sort of decaying pumpkin-gourd – mystical imagery betraying the themes of truth and beauty, decay and delusion (as captured in ‘Wide Open’).
The obscurely titled ‘Ah Ooh Ooh’ is more eloquent it might suggest, while the endearingly child-like ‘Happy Prince’ is a duet rich in imagery and emotion, capable of inducing a leaky eye and a lumpy throat. Please listen very carefully to the lyrics of this one – as the conversation between the lonely prince and the last swallow to leave unfolds a sad and beautiful story. A real gem, I hope this gets played loads all across the land for its sentiments deserved to be heard.
And so if you thought it couldn’t get any better than that, the title track ‘Year of the Bird’ just adds to the emotional spectrum already invoked in this aviary. A melodic, transcendental epic offering that takes its wings, soars and invades the artist’s space and psyche. There’s this bit – at the end – that mixes in the playground sound of children’s voices, just gets me in the gut (such is the day that’s in it for me).
Pure and honest, one of the finest albums by a singer-songwriter I’ve heard in a very long time. The pleasure was all mine, especially on the day when my wee bird has flown our nest. I hope she soars and I hope Oliver Cole’s solo career takes flight.