Like many other Los Angeles indie bands, Biirdie are beholden to the city's musical history and to the larger perceptions of SoCal pop, Laurel Canyon folk, and Sunset Strip rock. However, unlike their peers over in Silver Lake, many of whom use those styles as jumping-off points for further sonic experimentation, Biirdie aren't trying to get out from under the past. The Glendale-based trio embraces history, and occasionally on Catherine Avenue*,* their second album, they sound content to summarize primary sources rather than offer original analysis of these styles.
"L.A. Is Mars", a meandering locals anthem with Sophtware Slump synths, an unironic guitar solo, and stoner vocals from Jared Flamm, borrows its sound from a variety of lower West Coast sources and its municipal observations ("where the wind blows money and stars") from so many other depictions of the city-- L.A. Story, "Welcome to the Jungle", even Shawn Mullins' "Lullaby". But the band does too little with the title's planetary imagery and, despite the landmarks that litter their lyrics, never give us their own personal view of the city. A few tracks later, "Life in a Box" plays like a better ode to L.A.; its trippy chorus fuzzes out into a harmonica solo as Flamm namedrops Warren Zevon in the lyrics and the Byrds in the music, but by the time the song reaches its end, Biirdie are trying to be the Flying Burrito Brothers, which doesn't suit them quite as well.
Biirdie's reliance on the past doesn't make them a bad band by any means, just one with a flair for period costumery. Often, these songs can be charming. Their cover of the Texas Tornados' "Who Were You Thinkin' Of", with its killer organ licks and jubilant harmonies, sounds like the Carrie Nations playing behind chicken wire at an Amarillo roadhouse. Gleefully singing about getting some with someone who's getting some more on the side ("You got more out of it than I put into it"), they make self-deprecation sound pretty far out.
It's not too surprising that the best song on Catherine Avenue is the one that pushes the envelope the most, i.e., the title track. Flamm takes us on a walk from Embarcadero to Dennis Lane as he laments lost friends and the other band members "ooh" like Fleetwood Mac. Then comes a cosmic guitar solo, followed by an out-of-nowhere spoken-word bridge from bassist Kala Savage that sends the song spiraling into another realm. Savage (who, yes, has an actor brother named Fred) takes vocal duties on "Petals", pushing the album away from the needless digressions of the previous track, "I'm Gonna Tell You Something", and toward a dusty canyon folk sound that suits her voice. With moments like this scattered throughout Catherine Avenue, the album proves simultaneously ambitious and complacent, which is a strange combination. Biirdie want to give us a walking tour of their city, but they don't realize we've seen all these sights and heard all these sounds before.
