Garbage Reaches New Heights On "Birds"

Garbage has always been somewhat of an anomaly in the music industry, so it's only fitting that their new album is called "Strange Little Birds." Lifted from a lyric in their latest collection, this title serves as both imagery and metaphor. Here is a band that has always owned their otherness and hopes that you'll join them by doing the same.

When they first broke onto the scene 21 years ago -- time flies when you're making good music! -- Garbage defined themselves with a smart, sultry, female-led perspective that alternative music at the time was lacking. Well... that perspective was around, but its poster girl was less of a genuine rocker and more of an off-her-rocker joke (*cough, Courtney Love, cough cough*). Shirley Manson, Garbage's frontwoman, operates stealthily under the radar by exuding confidence without arrogance and sex appeal without compromised integrity. Any breaks the band took over their many years together were always issues with creativity and scheduling, versus the in-fighting and scandal that plagued other successful rock acts of the day.

Two decades into their career with no signs of stopping, this background clearly informs the risks and rewards that Garbage earns with "Birds." It's only their sixth album, but it's one that feels right in line with the atmosphere of their previous works: glossy yet brooding, catchy yet incisive. "Birds" delivers on all fronts, managing to feel both very grand (half the tracks approach or surpass the 5-minute mark) and very intimate, with Manson's voice and lyrics as cutting as ever. A sinister piano prelude prefaces the album on opening track "Sometimes," a deceptively minimal song whose skittish electronic backing is simpler and less noticeable than many of the band's arrangements, while the words sneak up on you in pure Garbage fashion. That reminder continues with the polished kick of "Empty," a lead radio single that has the most in common with earlier Garbage hits, but it still strikes a unique chord of its own thanks to Manson's resonant vocals during the chorus. Over the course of her career and notably on this album, it's a rare singer indeed who can alternate between her higher and lower registers and between menacing whispers and powerful declarations -- even within the same track -- and still hold you captive in her thrall.

Elsewhere, homages to the band's earlier sounds are plentiful but original. "Blackout" is a gritty throwback to the darker crunch of their 1995 self-titled debut and its 1998 follow-up "Version 2.0," while "Magnetized" triumphantly reclaims the poppier infusions found on 2001's "Beautiful Garbage" and 2005's "Bleed Like Me." Even with all of this time-hopping, Garbage has never relied on recording studio magic -- they sound exactly the same, if not better, when playing live! Their nostalgic meditations here are just as welcome now as they were the first time around.

That's not to say this album is derivative by any means. "If I Lost You" is a lo-fi exploration of desire and insecurity that borders on the surreal with its layered vocals and trippy digital hiccups. "Night Drive Loneliness" is exactly what its title suggests -- evoking haunting feelings of disappointment in others and oneself with a descending piano motif -- and it's among the highlights of the album's already solid tracklist. Manson is desperate to "understand why we kill the things we love" on "Even Though Our Love Is Doomed," one of the closest things Garbage has ever given us to a more traditional, against-all-odds love song... albeit with their signature downbeat snark. That track's shivery orchestrations effectively build to a more amplified finale. If you're looking for a statement of purpose, for the album or for Garbage itself, look no further than "So We Can Stay Alive." Every moment of the song feels awake and alert -- embracing the band's past and future -- with heavy fire from the drums and guitars coupled with Manson's urgent, insistent lyrics, unquestionably proving their deep alternative roots.

Penultimate track "Teaching Little Fingers To Play" is an unexpectedly tender dissection of childhood dreams versus adulthood's harsh realities, which makes perfect sense in the band's big picture. As Manson laments and comes to terms with the fact that "there's no one around to fix me now," you can't help but think of the youthful demands from a certain track on their very first album... called (what else?) "Fix Me Now." While it may or may not be a deliberate callback showing their growth and maturity in the years since then, as artists and as people, now I have to wonder how many other details on this album are meant to connect the stages of their career. At face value, it's an impressive effort from a reliable band. But when you look a little closer, it's obvious that Manson and Garbage have been "Strange Little Birds" all along, working their way toward this revelatory moment in music. Suddenly, strange isn't such a bad thing after all.