Today’s service at the Church of Birch found the charismatic pastor at the pulpit, where she swayed to the heavenly music streaming with the light through the immaculate stained glass windows that are the chapel’s walls. “Epiphanies knock around like loose change in your pocket,” she sang, a hint of sarcasm stabbing through the warm velvet that is her voice. “You’re reading Ulysses but you just don’t get it.” Though the overall discourse is new, longtime parishioners such as myself recognized the lines and tune, a melancholic parable titled “Wind Machine” that mixes directness with metaphor, as well as several other sections of the 50-minute sermon. Pastor Diane Birch first shared the song in October 2019, not long after the PledgeMusic implosion.
Ah, PledgeMusic—I curse it, still. For those unfamiliar with the defunct crowdfunding platform: It was essentially a Kickstarter for music. In the early years, at least from the outside looking in, it worked great; I backed quite a few projects, including ones from Juliana Hatfield, and never experienced any issues. So in the fall of ’18, when Birch—whose 2009 Bible Belt debut is one of my all-time favorites—launched a campaign to fund a new album, I dropped a lot of change into the collection plate. In addition to an autographed CD, I was slated to receive a cover song of my choice (a medley of the Goffin-King classic “Up on the Roof” and Laura Nyro’s “The Sweetest Sky” if I’d had my way); a thumb drive filled with demos; a dream journal; and my name in the album credits. Unfortunately, not long after Birch fulfilled the only premium I received, a four-song Christmas-themed EP, PledgeMusic went belly-up. It turned out to have been akin to a Ponzi scheme, with all monies raised dropped into the general operations fund.
In the years that followed, my Diane (as much a fan as me) and I rejoiced whenever Birch shared a new single here, a new single there, and tuned into many of her StageIt concerts. We fell in love with each new tune, including the infectious ode to late-night listening sessions, “Jukebox Johnny.”
It’s now one of many highlights on the much-delayed album in question, Flying on Abraham. To borrow half a line from Creem’s review of Rickie Lee Jones’ long-ago debut, “she’s nyro to Laura when she goes for them high aches.” Much of the album harkens back to Bible Belt, in other words, with breezy melodies paired to lyrics that speak to the emotional toll that comes with life and love in the modern age. Other songs, such as “Moto Moon”—which I remember from the demo she shared on PledgeMusic in the fall of ’18—integrate the moodiness of her overlooked 2016 EP, Nous. The bright-eyed songstress of Bible Belt is a little older and wiser, and a tad more cynical—as many of us are.
“Critics Lullaby” is another Nous-like gem. It could well be about those who pen vitriolic essays about the arts, but could also be about a critical partner, too—or the worst critic of them all, the person who stares back at us from the mirror each morning. The sweeping “Boys on Canvas,” on the other hand, paints a Monet-like picture of love’s wounds, art and escapism; it would’ve fit on Bible Belt, I think. The same’s true for “Russian Doll,” which finds her exploring the masks we often hide behind. The closing tracks, “Used to Lovin’ You” and “Trampoline,” on the other hand, harken back to Nous. In the former, hurt by love once too many times, she fears the feelings she’s developing for a current beau; in the latter, she turns a bounce mat into a metaphor for love’s highs and lows. Both are minor-key gems.
In short, longtime fans should rejoice about the arrival of the much-delayed Flying on Abraham. It’s everything we hoped it would be. The songs we already know remain addictive works of art, while the new songs are as good. Whether the Pastor Birch deigns to take her revival show on the road is anyone’s guess, but if she does here’s hoping Chapel Hill is one of her stops.
The Old Grey Cat 