by David Wilikofsky
Erin Birgy has been recording music under the name Mega Bog for a decade, and over that time has managed to carve out her own weirdo-pop niche. Her songs are sonic flights of fancy, complex shapeshifting confections that flit between jazz rock, folk and psych pop with equally whimsical lyrics; her last album, Dolphine, was inspired by the writing of Ursula K Le Guin and a myth that suggested as humans evolved, some choose to stay in the sea and explore the depths as dolphins. Birgy is rejoined by many of her collaborators from that album on its follow-up, Life, And Another. It’s a record that contains some of her most expansive music and direct songwriting to date.
From its opening moments, Life, And Another sounds self assured. Against a lightly jazzy backing track, on “Flower” words seem to flow effortlessly from Birgy’s mouth; her vocal delivery is reminiscent of Joni Mitchell as she masterfully dances with and around the beat. While that song feels very much akin to her earlier work (and there’s plenty in this vein to please longtime fans), the album also sees Birgy expanding her sonic language. The titular track moves forward in fits and starts, grinding to a halt only to pick up right where it left off moments later. “Bull of Heaven”, one of the heaviest Mega Bog songs I’ve heard, features squalls of guitar feedback and a grinding beat. “Maybe You Died” is filled with cosmic, minor key synths that sound at once mournful and beautiful. These new sounds even find their way into familiar territory, as with the guitar skronk at the beginning of the otherwise melodious “Butterfly.”
Birgy wrote Life, And Another across multiple locations: a small cabin in New Mexico, on the road touring, in sublets in Seattle. It was a time of solitude for her, and these songs chart out the landscapes she traversed. Often they’re physical; flora and fauna appear throughout, with songs populated by lizards, moths, coyotes, artichokes and more. Birgy wanders into the woods, sits amongst the purple rocks of the desert and watches glowing sunsets, occasionally with a companion but mostly alone with her thoughts. But there are also psychic landscapes to explore; “Darmok”, a track named after what is considered one of the best Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes (and a show she found comfort in during this period), is an airy, atmospheric instrumental that conjures up the glow of a laptop screen against the dark of the night, and “Maybe You Died” features images of the past and present slowly flitting across her consciousness. Taken as a whole, it feels like some of her most intimate and personal music to date.
Life, And Another can sometimes feel like a hall of mirrors, each song a knotty riddle. But as you begin to understand the internal logic of Birgy’s sonic circus, the album will reveal itself as one of the most idiosyncratic, mind-blowing pop albums you’re likely to hear this year. Perhaps Birgy says it best herself on closer “Ameleon”: “I’m one in a million.”