Andrew Bird

"I was on a binge for four or five years," Andrew Bird told The New York Times, "Just devouring everything I could get my hands on." Now before you get the wrong idea, we're referring to the mounting music collection that helped inform Andrew Bird's immense, ever-evolving discography, from the Appalachian porch music ("C**k O' the Walk") and Dylan-esque folk ("Nuthinduan Waltz") of 1998's Thrills to the blossoming orchestration of his latter-day album (the full-frontal assault of "Fake Palindromes," the deftly plucked strings and knuckle-dragging drums of "Lull," the skittering samples of "A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left").

Our Next Steps are just as dizzying, so you might want to sit down before Bird's songs bowl right over you.

While many artists find their footing amid the bright lights and bustling streets of big cities, the bridge between Andrew Bird's Chicago days — a constant struggle to make ends meet despite a string of stunning discs, like Thrills, Oh! The Grandeur, and The Swimming Hour — and the main stage of festivals like Bonnaroo was crossed on a family farm in Illinois. With his Bowl of Fire backing band a car ride away, Bird was forced to flesh out his solo sound with pedals and fleet-fingered improv skills. A Lollapalooza rendition of "Measuring Cups" reveals just how rich this approach can be, right alongside a spare and slightly spooky tour EP — Soldier On — chords that coat the air like rain drops ("Scythian Empires"), and hypnotic heartbeat hooks ("Tables and Chairs").

The whistling is the first thing everyone notices, because, well, who really whistles these days? And while we're at it, what's up with Andrew Bird's violin playing, a combination of classical training and live looping techniques that has more in common with hip-hop than anything you'd hear at Carnegie Hall? Try as we might to crack his genre-skimming back catalog, only Bird knows what truly drives his timeless tracks. Us? We're left soaking up the many styles — both old and new — that flicker across our speakers like a dazzling fireworks display, including a retooled Irish traditional ("Fatal Flower Garden"), a stark and woozy murder ballad ("Two Sisters"), dashes of madcap jazz ("Glass Figurine," "Dora Goes to Town"), soda-shop pop ("Dear Old Greenland"), and tunes that sound like nothing but Andrew Bird ("Imitosis," "Lull").