Indianer – Birdcloud

If you were to take The Onion and write it by the women of Broad City, that’s the aesthetic I attach to Birdcloud.

When you scroll through their song list on Spotify, nearly EVERY song has an Explicit warning attached to it.

The genius doesn’t lie in their MANY attempts to be offensive. It comes from their delivery and ability to infuse their lyrics with the ridiculous aspects of society. And they do this while making every song catchy.

Birdcloud is still most often found in Nashville, the scene that accepted them from the start. They realize that their sound is abrasive, and they have no intention of toning it down. It’s what defines them.

I’ve read reviews of their shows where the writer was shocked at their stage presence. They often face each other for the entire show, with a frigidity in their eyes, and nearly nose-to-nose.

As with many of their songs, if you were to take “Indianer” for face value, you’d most definitely be offended. But if you catch the frustration and disgust as they spit out the lyrics, you see that its clearly a commentary on stereotypes and ignorance.

“One eighth Apache, Three fourths Cherokee, One eighth Mowhawk, Three quarters Choctaw, One eighth Black Foot, Three fourths Red Sox, I’m more Indianer than all of ya’ll.”

The chorus comes screeching in with all of the aggression of Roseanne Barr yelling at Dan. Seriously. I thought it was Roseanne for a second.

The thing that keeps intriguing me about Birdcloud is that for all of their crassness, it’s meaningful. So often, current musicians take lyrics to a gross-out level without any sort of payoff. But for Birdcloud, there’s always a method to the madness.

You realize that while they may not be songs to belt in front of your family, there’s truth in them, and they’re worth listening to, even with the volume down a little lower.

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