Magic can happen at any time, in any era and epoch. The early 1990s saw British vocalist and guitarist Debsey Wykes and guitarist Paul Kelly come together over a shared love of retro sunshine pop and soft rock during an era when that sound reflected little of what was happening in popular music at the time. They had been playing as members of Saint Etienne’s touring band, and in 1994 they’d formed a band, Birdie, and five years later, their first full album, Some Dusty, was released. Though the band didn’t end up releasing all that much music in the years that followed, their debut is generously packed with enough worth treasuring all on its own.
You can tell a lot about a release from the first track, and Some Dusty sets the stage with the upbeat, easy-on-the-ear “Laugh.” The lyrics are subtly humorous, seeming to make light of the idea of a newfound popularity that quickly evaporates. Wykes’ lyrics discuss the idea of a narrator who experiences a sudden loss of popularity (and a crowd that’s “laughing at you”). It’s a cautionary tale of self-deceit and the fickleness of society, which perhaps are heavy topics, but the band’s approach makes them into something that feels more bubbly and breezy. It’s hard to take things so seriously when the music is like a rose-tinted beam of sunshine reflecting on you.
The overall vibe that Birdie capture on Some Dusty is reminiscent of British and British-influenced rock and pop music from the ’60s and ’70s—Petula Clark, Donovan, The Byrds, Herman’s Hermits, and the like. “Let Her Go” is another standout song, not as airy as the first song but that energetic beat, guitar and vocals all blend together in a way that still grooves. They also introduce horns in this song, adding an additional layer that turns the piece toward a more melancholy tone.
While “nostalgia” tends to be overused in the context of music reflective of its influences, it nonetheless applies to Some Dusty. Birdie do more than just pay homage to the artists mentioned above, but rather take those textures and elements and reshape them into something all their own. At times it feels as if this record might have been lost in the 1970s and suddenly rediscovered in 1999. They occasionally change up this style, however, taking dream-pop cues from the Cocteau Twins instead of sparkling sunshine. Yet the duo are transparent about their interests. Take “Blue Dress” for example; it showcases an electric organ you might find in a song like “Itchycoo Park,” but there are also some sonic distortions that clearly belong to the 1990s. It also loses the bubbly effervescence you’d associate with material like “Sunshine Superman” or “Build Me Up Buttercup.” Which isn’t to say artists like Donovan or The Foundations didn’t have slower or sadder songs, but not necessarily like “Blue Dress.”
Some Dusty was issued through a then-young Slumberland Records, which had a track record of jangle-pop and C86-heavy indie rock mixed with elements of folk, shoegaze and pop. In the prior years, it had issued some of its defining records, like Terrible Things Happen by The Aislers Set and A Certain Smile, A Certain Sadness by Rocketship, who like Birdie took heavy inspiration from ’60s British sounds, yet with a consistently lighter tone, altogether more breezy than boisterous.
Just halfway through Some Dusty, “Folk Singer” grabs as the ear as soloing guitar and vocals take the lead while percussion keeps the rhythm at an easy pace. Harmonica, like the horn in “Let Her Go,” acts as a lightly intruding voice that weaves and twirls about as the song progresses. Regardless of its title, the piece doesn’t quite evoke figures like Joni Mitchell or Judy Collins. Yet, there is something of the wandering singer/songwriter searching for inspiration about it. Then “Port Sunlight” jingles in, reminiscent of British folk-rock singer Al Stewart’s song “Mr. Lear.” It has that acoustic guitar quality matched with dusky vocals and a vintage aesthetic. The ending is especially wonderful; the repetitive riffs on the guitar really take off to then fade away, a xylophone-like chiming above.
Wykes and Kelly are expert at blending and blurring ’60s pop with a more modern, ’90s-era indie rock sound. Their second and last release, 2001’s Triple Echo, keeps to a similar vibe with songs like “Sidewalk” and “Such a Sound,” but it also sheds some of their throwback aesthetic in favor of a more contemporary pop-rock sound. Birdie hasn’t released any new music in over two decades, yet that first album achieved a graceful and refined balance between old and modern sounds that was never quite recaptured.
Though I was born in the late 1990s, my mother was around during the British invasion—the musical one, not 1776 or 1812. She has since imparted her love of those musicians onto me, and now hearing Birdie’s 1999 release 25 years later (which has since been reissued on vinyl by Slumberland), it reaffirms my fondness of that retro sound with a modern mix. Some Dusty speaks not only to those ’90s-era fans of jangle pop and those with a fondness for ’60s sunshine pop, but for those just as charmed by the space between them.
Birdie : Some Dusty
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