Birds of Tokyo — March Fires

EMI | discogs.com

The indie rock equivalent of slipping a book into a perfect shelf space.

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With a few quick keystrokes, anyone can view thousands of absurdly complex domino projects. From copies of famous artworks to intricate geometric patterns, they all instill a sense of profound satisfaction. A flawless plan unfolds before your very eyes as a single flick sends hours of meticulously conceived payoff skimming across your screen.

It is not only dominos that give rise to this particular satisfaction. It manifests when slotting a book into a space that is just the right size. And it is also felt when listening to Birds of Tokyo's fourth studio album.

Every element of March Fires is carefully constructed. Interlocking grids of guitar chime delicately beneath clean, glossy synthesisers as pulses of classic indie-rock percussion keep the beat. It sounds as if they are played not by real people but by particularly tasteful robots.

You would be forgiven for mistaking this album for a collection of high-quality karaoke covers; they demonstrate a similar rigidity. But tinny MIDI backing tracks fail to enthuse. March Fires maintains a certain looseness throughout, threading regular major and minor chords with unexpected fourths and ninths — just enough to offset any emergent impression of squareness.

Vocalist Ian Kenny, progeny of Perth, sings with the delicate earnestness of someone who impresses the whole patronage of a bar by not caring if he impresses the whole patronage of a bar. While such an inflexible approach would not flatter the melancholy that commonly characterises this particular flavour of indie, Birds of Tokyo unexpectedly tap into great reserves of positivity. With little modulation, Kenny deftly handles nostalgic ballads like 'Boy' ("I've a memory / Of a little boy / Who you'd like to meet / He could do anything") the encouragement mantra of 'Sirin' ("It's hard being human / You're not an animal / Anymore") and the optimistic refrain of 'Lanterns' ("On we march / Till we meet the dawn / We will light our way / With our lanterns on")

Like a pleasantly tessellating mosaic, March Fires neither clamours for attention nor downplays its strengths with false modesty. It just is.