There's new music from Andrew Bird. The creative violinist and singer has written a pensive tune inspired by our political climate called "Bloodless," including lines such as, "it's an uncivil war bloodless for now / and the poets they explode like bombs." Andrew Bird wrote to say, "We find ourselves in a cold civil war. Everyone is playing their part too well. Certain actors are reaping power and wealth from divisiveness. Echoes of the Spanish civil war when fascists and clergy win because they put up a united front against the individualistic and principled (yet scattered) left. We can turn this ship around, but need to step back and be honest with ourselves about what's happening while it's still relatively bloodless."
The video that accompanies this song takes us on a stroll through the streets of Los Angeles - streets filled with modern distractions of commercialism, commodities and cell phones. We see the haves and have nots all while Andrew Bird's song sends us a warning with lines about how "the best have lost their convictions /while the worst keep sharpening their claws."
Andrew Bird's song of discontent, his first new single in a little over a year, is available to stream or purchases now, and will also be available as a physical 7" on December 14. Here are the full lyrics:
They're profiting from your worry
selling blanks down at the DMZ
banking on the sound and fury
wonder what it's to do with me
bloodless for now
I'm keeping mine with the altruists
putting my weight behind the dancer
I know it's hard to be an optimist
when you trust least the ones who claim to have the answers
and it's an uncivil war bloodless for now
and the poets they explode like bombs
while the gentry is drinking moët chandon
turn around and quote a well known psalm:
don't you worry 'bout the wicked
don't you envy those who do wrong
and your innocence will be like the dawn
while the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun
the best have lost their convictions
while the worst keep
sharpening their claws
peddling in their dark fictions
while what's left of us we just hem and we haw
and it feels like 1936 in Catalonia
Catalonia
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