biography:
singer/songwriter david lamb, cellist jerusha robinson, and multi-instrumentalist jeremy robinson, known as the dark americana trio brown bird, have brought subtly disturbing lyrics dressed in soothing harmonies to those who will listen since 2003. these long-time friends and collaborators have evolved from a simple guitar/vocal/cello/accordion arrangement to adding more banjo, toy piano, vocals, and minimal percussion, the last of which some fans have cited as a most exciting new development. their sound ranges from simple sea-shanty style folk to complex counterpoints with an eastern european flavor. their influences of indie rock, classical music, and old american hymns rise and fall within their songs like whitecaps on a dark and stormy sea.
david introduced the first catalog of his songs in the winter of 2002-2003 to friends and family while unemployed and living in seattle. he returned to the east coast in late 2003, and in the spring of 2004, the current line-up was born with the release of their first ep, "tauto". a self-titled ep ensued the following spring. just before their first united states tour, brown bird remixed and combined the two eps into one aptly named cd, "tautology". a new full-length album, "such unrest", is being released in the spring of 2007.
live reviews:
the band's combination of plaintive, traditionally rooted folk melodies and emphatic drum beats reminded me of 16 horsepower; there was a drama in the beat that you don't often find in singer/songwriterly americana.
[harp magazine]
the trio's intensely quiet string arrangements were gorgeous and melodic, and the mastery of unusual instruments is a welcome feature in today's world of lazy guitar riffs slopped over a background of dozens of instruments.
[bostonist]
balanced instrumentation made for a meticulous and beautifully haunting performance that ended with applause so loud it almost seemed ironic, considering the band’s quiet style.
[northeast performer]
brown bird take the comfort of four-chord
appalachia and draw out intelligent twists and turns of vocal harmonies
and inventive instrumental arrangements.
[portland phoenix]
file under "hymn-like music to dream to"
[boston phoenix]
reviews for such unrest:
brown bird sounds like damien rice raised on the appalachian trail
[northeast performer]
brown bird's songs take on a bigness with smallness, like a man in a boat with a whale underneath
[weekly dig]
brown bird puts a dark, but certainly accessible, spin on
americana/indie folk music
[portland press herald]
lamb’s explicit yearnings are woven
into dark folk arrangements, and the band’s careful but expanding compositions elevate what
ought to be a fearful downer into something more mysterious and beautiful
[portland phoenix]
reviews for brown bird ep:
the three members of brown bird achieve a stunning level of emotional depth employing only guitar, cello, accordion, piano, and beautiful male/female vocal interplay
[northeast performer]
tranquil songs so intimate and beautifully woven they create a pocket of space in your mind that keeps them playing on repeat for days on end
[spotlight]
tunng, geoff farina and brown bird live in cambridge
This evening didn't start like that. Brown Bird, the opener, held its ground with quiet intensity. Three of them sat in a row, Jerusha Robinson cradling a cello, David Lamb with a guitar in his lap and an array of foot-played drums in front of him, and multi-instrumentalist Jeremy Robinson with a banjo. (Later, he would switch to accordion and toy piano, and, at one point, grab a mallet from Lamb to whack on the drum, while still somehow playing the accordion.)
The band's combination of plaintive, traditionally rooted folk melodies and emphatic drum beats reminded me of 16 Horsepower; there was a drama in the beat that you don't often find in singer/songwriterly Americana. I couldn't figure out how they were making the beat at first, then shifted to the side for a better angle. Lamb had a tom tom, a tambourine and a woodblock rigged to foot pedals. His feet were keeping time, while his fingers picked out the melodies. And then when Robinson switched to accordion, the sound thickened and became more abrasive, his long drones merging with those of his wife's cello in a heady, conflicting dissonance. The words, sung by Lamb, were interesting, too, couplets about "colonies of cannibals" and the intent to "Build a white picket fence with their skeletons" merging into a Bonnie Prince Billy-ish tune. A mostly country set took an East European turn, as cello played syncopated, minor-key gypsy swoops. Later, she added baroque classical tones, and finally a plucked solo that sounded very much like jazz bass. Dark and complicated music, this, intense enough to quiet a bar. [top]
live review: tunng, geoff farina, brown bird @ middle east
thursday night was cold and unappealing, but the warm sounds of brown bird, geoff farina, and tunng made the middle east upstairs more than inviting. From brown bird's three-piece string set (cello, guitar, and guitar--or sometimes banjo) to farina's solo strumming to tunng's multi-instrumentalist mashups, the show was remarkably enjoyable throughout. read on for a little more info on the live musical stylings of these three groups.
usually, the opening bands are the ones you want to avoid, but bostonist is glad we were able to catch brown bird thursday evening. the trio's intensely quiet string arrangements were gorgeous and melodic, and the mastery of unusual instruments is a welcome feature in today's world of lazy guitar riffs slopped over a background of dozens of instruments. recognizing that plucked cello strings can serve as your rhythm section or that texture can be added through subtle vocal harmonization rather than a twelve-piece band sets brown bird apart from many other acts. their sit-down session set was sleepy but seductive, and definitely persuaded us to buy their new cd such unrest.[top]
by taylor bratches / northeast performer
tuung / geoff farina / brown bird
Entering the Middle East Upstairs on October 26 after being bombarded by the Friday night hustle and bustle of its relative, The Middle East restaurant, was like entering into another world. All seemed to stop as Brown Bird, opening for Karate’s Geoff Farina and Brit-folk ensemble Tunng, timidly began their set, marking the start of a softly sweet, yet poignant show.
After their opening song, Brown Bird’s Jerusha Robinson addressed a half-packed room by saying, “This is weird, no one usually stands at our shows.” Nearly in a whisper, David Lamb, vocalist/guitarist added “Yeah, don’t you just want to take a nap?” The three-piece outfit consisted of Robinson on cello, Lamb on vocals and guitar, and Jeremy Robinson on banjo, though each impressively multi-tasked on an array of other instruments including accordion, tom drum, toy piano, and various percussive instruments. Perhaps most impressive about this, more so than their technical abilities, was the songwriting — each instrument was used sparsely yet precisely. Light feminine wisps of Jerusha’s vocals nicely accenting Lamb’s soft croon, mixed with minimal, balanced instrumentation made for a meticulous and beautifully haunting performance that ended with applause so loud it almost seemed ironic, considering the band’s quiet style.
Following Brown Bird was Geoff Farina of acclaimed indie bands Karate and Secret Stars, who showcased his solo singer/songwriting. Surprisingly, by the time he took the stage he had already lost his audience: half the crowd had filtered out after Brown Bird and the other half seemed apathetic. But Farina did not seem phased: he presented his songs honestly and openly, not trying to be or sound like Karate, retaining a sense of humility from the onset. His songs did not stray much from the typified singer/songwriter sound, and further, most of them were played and sung in the same key, rendering the set a bit monotonous. An uplifting Mississippi John Hurt cover mid-set mixed things up a tad, providing a burst of elation among the down tempo numbers. Farina ended his set with two powerful instrumental pieces, fully reclaiming the audience. He sat for these two songs only, and this simple action transformed him as well as the audience’s expectations: he went from being Geoff Farina of Karate to Geoff Farina, singer/songwriter, gently rocking back and forth, letting the beauty of his impressive acoustic melodies awe and lull the crowd.
Finally London-based indie/folk six-piece Tunng took to the stage, beginning their set with a charged and wild opening, breaking from the placid atmosphere that had up to this point defined the show. The group, comprised of four vocalists (three on acoustic guitar), a percussionist and an electronic laptop wizard, seized the audience’s ears and bodies quickly with an array of percussive elements, such as stomping, clapping, playing homemade wind-chimes/shell mobiles with feet, bells and even a chirping toy bird. While the first song was powered, the bulk of the set recoiled to slower pace, fitting appropriately alongside the previous acts.
by john drake / northeast performer
In discussing Such Unrest, mention must be made of the cover art designed by Eric Hou. The packaging features a scene of anthropomorphic koala bears staring in goodbye as a ship departs in days long forgotten. Though this description may sound whimsical and cutesy, it manages instead to be wistful and stark — a perfect complementary image for the music of Brown Bird. Initially, referring to their music as “dark Americana” may raise eyebrows, but after a short listen, this description proves an accurate diagnosis. David Lamb’s lyrics are emotional, thoughtful and evocative, resting wonderfully on a bed of cello, acoustic guitar, banjo and other assorted instruments. Most impressive, however, is the way that the band can endow an established genre like Americana with fresh and dark turns.
Brown Bird sounds like Damien Rice raised on the Appalachian trail (this is especially clear on the vocal/guitar interplay in “This Mountain Road,” which sounds strikingly similar to the Irish balladeer). Throughout the record, Lamb refrains from unleashing the full volume of his voice, remaining in a Nick Drake-esque whisper. Always appropriate, the unity of his vocal delivery enhances the quiet tension that courses through the record, echoing like an electrified house after an embattled shouting match.
The title track is a standout, filling out the space around Lamb’s lyrics with three-part harmony, exceptionally sparse percussion and wonderfully intertwining banjo, guitar and cello lines. This sort of cohesiveness is constant throughout the record, but the expanded instrumentation carries the tune into different strata with its fullness. On the other end of the spectrum, “Blue Is The Weather” features the most delicate folk sensibility of Brown Bird’s songs, featuring only Lamb’s guitar and a wonderful vocal duet with cellist Jerusha Robinson. After a tender song, Brown Bird gently fleshes out the tones into a yielding but melodic cello and accordion outro.
As the record continues on, one can’t help but yearn for production values to better match the quality of the song writing. In featuring such beautiful minimalism in the instrumentation, every instrument has the opportunity to shineon its own and as part of the ensemble.
While the musicianship and composition is undeniably successful, the lackluster recording and mastering techniques cover the recordings in a sort of b-side film of dust. Nevertheless, Brown Bird’s talent shines through the haze and some tracks fare better than others, particularly the wonderful “Run the Wire.”
Additional mention must be made of Jeremy Robinson’s multi-instrumentalism. Whether playing accordion, slide guitar, banjo or percussion, Robinson’s talent undeniably enhances Brown Bird’s songs, lending an additional layer of complexity to otherwise simple and clean folk music. The color he provides can define the genre of a song, whether it be classical folk, expansive ensemble tune or sea shanty. His toy piano work on “Blanket of You” is especially effective and touching, resulting in one of the most memorable songs on the record.
Adrift in a sea of such unrest, Brown Bird provides enough stability to keep listeners’ heads above water. For fans of Americana, folk and engagingly bare music, Brown Bird is definitely an act to lend a listen. [top]
by michael brodeur / weekly dig
thirteen ways of looking at brown bird (sorry, wallace)
1. three guys. multi-instrumentalist (and house-painting contractor) jeremy robinson and cellist (and administrative assistant) jerusha robinson-both from portland, me, and singer/songwriter david lamb, who installs electrical systems on yachts and lives in fort point.
2. players of feather-light chantey-tinged but thoroughly modern americana. accordions, banjos, guitar, terror, harmony, love, major simultaneity and near-silence.
3. not as willfully obscure as bonnie prince, not as beard-yankingly precious as sam bean; not as soaring as the dirty three, nor as low as low-but close enough to each to warrant mention, briefly, and never again.
4. "low does not to be a gesture of hope to my mother."-dave lamb
5. lamb often has to reconcile with the hopelessness perceived by others in his songs: "i often feel a sense of release hearing someone else expressing their sadness. in this way 'hopeless' music has been a gesture in favor of hope to me. no matter what the music is about, it can be a gesture of hope to someone."
6. "gray are the rocks / all along this shore / the seagulls no match for my arms / in a frightening pose / they will not fly here no more." ("blue is the water")
7. lamb, now reading moby dick, lived on a houseboat at lewis wharf: "when the gangway from your slip to dry land falls in the water after a harsh storm, it gives you a good excuse to be a couple hours late to work. it inspired a desire to get to know all things nautical more intimately."
8. brown bird's songs take on a bigness with smallness, like a man in a boat with a whale underneath.
9. "tomorrow we shall see / if she's worthy of the sea / and at sea / if she is worthy of our love."
("run the wire")
10. they just released such unrest, a good amount of which was tracked in ocean park, me, in a town meeting hall that was built in 1915. you can see them play there on the 11th, if you aren't down on maine.
11. "the pace of maine is slower..."
12. things are speeding up. brown bird soon leaves on a series of two-week tours into the south and midwest, and will release an improvised album later this year along with another studio outing following that. soon, the saddest, prettiest band in boston will belong to everybody. they stand to make a big noise.
13. "we're just better at quiet. i think we'll leave the loud to lightning bolt." [top]
by aimsel l. ponti / portland press herald
Brown Bird takes wing with a haunting debut
The trio with the eclectic collection of instruments has a dark sounds ... but not too dark.
The new CD by Portland/Boston trio Brown Bird is now officially in my bloodstream.
David Lamb sings and plays acoustic and electric guitar. Jerusha Robinson is on cello, banjo, percussion and vocals. And Jeremy Robinson plays accordion, banjo, slide guitar, toy piano, percussion and sings.
Brown Bird puts a dark, but certainly accessible, spin on Americana/indie folk music. The trio formed in 2004, and some EPs followed. In April their debut full-length album was released. It's called "Such Unrest," and the music took me on a subterranean voyage into parts unknown. It's a quiet fusion of classical, indie rock and folk into songs that range from dirge-like to ones that evoke ancient rituals and conjure up thoughts of Edgar Allan Poe.
It all begins with "My mind Is an Altar" The threshold of the song is crossed with a slow accordion and acoustic guitar. David Lamb's vocals sound like they're coming from a soul who's been adrift at sea for an eternity yet is resigned to his fate and at one with nature. It's a soul who can sometimes grow restless with longing and haunted by dreams. When Jerusha Robinson's vocals come into the song, the effect is all the more chilling. "Our way home through the stars. Feast on a beast then scatter his bones. Deep into sleep we will fall and our bellies are full." The accordion and cello are right there as well, adrift on that same boat. It would be fair to say that the song is a baptism that affords entry to the rest of the record.
"Taurus" starts with the sound of a door shutting. The rest the song has the vocals of Lamb, then Jerusha, and back to Lamb while the cello floats in. More strings and the banjo usher in "Sorrow," which again references beast imagery: "But she stared the beast right in the eyes, my friend. She knows that it will never die, this will never end," sings Lamb.
The title track, "Such Unrest," ends as quietly as it begins, but within the four minutes is a foray into the human spirit. "Tonight my demons keep me stirring. Alone in bed, I'm tossing and turning. Through my head my thoughts are worrying, with such unrest what peace can come?" asks Lamb. These could be the words of a man on the eve of battle, heading for the gallows, or on an impossible quest to find a lost love.
The rest of the record -- 12 songs in all -- are more of the same with other fabrics woven in. "Blue Is the Water" has a lullaby feel to it. "Run the Wire" is a sad and gorgeous poetic offering. You can hear the toy piano keys plinking on "Blanket of You," the minute-and-a-half love song: "Your face is a fixture in the heart of my mind and I hold fast to that through each night." Jeremy's accordion on this one is particularly moving. You'll hear it on several other songs, always a heart-rending sound, often harmonizing hauntingly with the cello.
The music of Brown Bird has an esoteric mystery about it, but they want you to venture with them to all their sacred places. It's a pilgrimage worth taking. [top]
by chris gray / portland phoenix
Brown Bird have never sounded as fully realized as they do on Such Unrest. The noirish Americana trio — Portland cellist/vocalist Jerusha Robinson and all-purpose instrumentalist Jeremy Robinson, fronted by Boston songwriter/guitarist David Lamb — specialize in tales of romance shrouded in paranoia and often doom. Lamb’s explicit yearnings are woven into dark folk arrangements, and the band’s careful but expanding compositions elevate what ought to be a fearful downer into something more mysterious and beautiful.
The immediacy of Lamb’s lyrics is apparent from the start. His romances are double-edged swords, implicating both parties’ fatality in well-rounded metaphors.
Album opener “My Mind is an Altar” utilizes his delivery — clear and soulful, with a faint and necessary bit of gravel — to make an ambiguous indictment: “My mind is an altar/where thoughts come to burn/As offerings to heaven/and one day you’ll gather the ash in my urn/You will have feathers and you’ll see everything from above.”
Such Unrest succeeds even in its more funereal stretches, in no small part because of some graceful Balkan inflections. The title track begins with a chill — “With such unrest/What peace can come” — but tambourine and kickdrum enter and give voice to the rising fears; the song turns into an old-world waltz, and the best use of the trio’s aching three-part harmonies. “Blue is the Weather” and “Run the Wire” follow as the album’s sweetest moments, soothing Iron & Wine-like banjo licks loaning simple warmth to Lamb’s intimate lyrics as he tries to shrug off “his inconstant ways.”
It’s Lamb’s cohesive songwriting and charismatic vocals that carry Such Unrest, but it’s his partners’ fluid expansion into a denser and more complex backdrop that makes the album special. The Robinsons’ sly touches of quiet menace — the interplay of accordion and cello on “Burden,” the background refrain of “Everything I touch turns to gold” on “Gold” — bring Lamb’s vivid imagery to fruition. [top]
by ian page / portland phoenix
music seen, at the soundpost
The cozy and contemplative folk of Brown Bird couldn't be more at home at Portland’s newest venue, the Soundpost. The enterprising entertainment duo of Kate Cox and Matt Rock inherited the former Stillhouse Studio on High Street above Katahdin Restaurant and are carrying the torch to illuminate the exposed wood ceilings and pews for an audience close enough to converse with the performers.
Brown Bird take the comfort of four-chord Appalachia and draw out intelligent twists and turns of vocal harmonies and inventive instrumental arrangements. Boston’s David Lamb brings a solo songwriting aesthetic that collides with the emotional atmospheres of Portland’s Jeremy and Jerusha Robinson. Their rich tones of voice, cello, banjo, and accordion make it so the collision results in an embrace.
The tension is familial and loving, the kind that engages you in a wholly different way from sonically similar acts like the easygoing Iron and Wine. Lamb’s simple, strong guitar and bedroom brooding voice are emotionally charged with swells of sound. The band performed a new one called “Gold,” which begins with the Robinsons chanting a line about a Midas touch while Lamb sets the scene for a tragedy of lost love. The song takes tormented turns and percussive breaks and then rushes back into a saturated sound before ending in a toy piano whimper. How many times can you get the chills in one song?
Brown Bird’s last record, Tautology, is out now. The new sounds and songs suggest you should look out for their upcoming offering, Such Unrest. You can pick up a copy in person when they get back from their East Coast tour in April. [top]
by joshua hoey / northeast performer
The three members of Brown Bird achieve a stunning level of emotional depth employing only guitar, cello, accordion, piano, and beautiful male/female vocal interplay.This sort of whisper-quiet indie rock would be most powerful in the context of a living room show. It is imbued with an incredible sense of intimacy that turns this lo-fi recording into a living, breathing creation.
The backbone of the band’s sound is guitarist/vocalist David Lamb, who began performing under the name Brown Bird while living in Seattle during the winter of 2002. Jerusha and Jeremy Robinson joined him before this recording was undertaken. Lamb’s simple guitar figures and expressive vocals are complemented by Jerusha’s cello, piano, and vocals. Jeremy’s accordion provides some of the more memorable melodies. None of the instruments or vocal lines are ever overwhelming, each part serving the greater musical whole. This is quite an achievement – the delicate playing and vocals combine to form a captivating and cohesive sound.
The opening guitar on “Hardly A Man Of My Word,” probably the strongest of the four songs here, will draw comparisons to Iron And Wine, as Jerusha and David’s vocals blend together before the other sounds break into the mix. The chorus features Lamb’s guitar and vocals by themselves, as he intones, “Hardly a man of my word, I promise you the whole world, I follow through with things I want to follow through with.”
This is the sound of three people creating music that sounds right to them, which expressing their emotional state in a direct, largely unadorned manner. [top]
by elisabeth donnelly / boston phoenix
On Sunday night, the week-long N.E.S.T. festival was just kicking off, but the show at ZuZu had a weekend wind-down feel. The music of Portland’s BROWNBIRD was especially lovely: these two boys and a girl switched off on cello, banjo, accordion, and guitar, with the resulting orchestral neo-folk sounding like a cousin to Tigersaw and Alex K. Redfearn and the Eyesores. File under "Hymn-like music to dream to." Screw Iron and Wine, people: New England has this nascent trend ’pon lock. [top]
brown bird alights at the red door
The Maine trio Brown Bird was introduced to the indie music scene back in 2004 when it released its debut album, "Tauto." Under-the-radar as it was, the band supported the record with a series of basement shows and a few bookstore showcases. The trio, David Lamb (vocals, guitars, toy piano), Jeremy Robinson (accordion), and Jerusha Robinson (cello, vocals, piano) are back with a new, self-titled, four-song E.P. and bring with them an eclectic blend of tunes that mix elements of the Robinsons’ old band South China.
"Brown Bird" contains tranquil songs so intimate and beautifully woven they create a pocket of space in your mind that keeps them playing on repeat for days on end. The songs deal with life - the good and the bad. One would think that you couldn’t accomplish much in just four tracks, but Brown Bird finds a way to completely take you from the task of day to day routine and get you thinking about a cruise through the countryside with nothing more than the music in your ears and the sunsbeams shining through the overhanging branches from the surrounding trees.
Lamb’s voice is so soothing and inviting you can’t help but be intrigued by the way these tunes allay a weary mind, and by what Brown Bird has to offer the music world. That said, it may seem impossible to imagine the accordion as a staple instrument on the recording, but oh, it is. In one word it’s unbelievable. Who would have thought that the instrument could play such a major role on a record so unruffled, and well, quiet? Brown Bird may have broken some ground here. Just maybe. [top]