Andrew Bird is no ‘one trick pony’. His previous three albums provide many reasons to become enthralled. They’ve got enigmatic lyrics filled with historical references and non-sequiturs. They’ve got chirpy, musical singing. They’ve got the wide range of beautiful noises he coaxes from his violin. They’ve even got cheeky whistling.

On Useless Creatures Bird casts most of his hallmarks aside, and takes a bold step into the unknown. Gone are the lyrics, the singing, even most of the whistling. Originally released as a ‘bonus’ accompaniment to Bird’s charming 2009 work Noble Beast, Useless Creatures is an expansive album of diverse instrumental experiments.

So who does this Bird fellow think he is? Doesn’t he know that you can’t just wander aimlessly into instrumental music, you need to decide on your raison d’etre! Are you a follower of Music For Airports like Stars of the Lid out to provide drones which calm and distance listeners from the hub-bub of the world? Are you an ‘experimental’, like Fennesz, challenging people with new and unfamiliar tones? Are you making modern classical music like Nyman, or IDM like Aphex Twin, or jazzy post-rock like Tortoise? Or are you just jamming?

Mr. Bird doesn’t march under any of these broad genre conventions. This is no bad thing. Instead Useless Creatures is a touching album, very organic and self-fulfilling, and very Andrew Bird. The songs expand as if growing in whatever direction the wind blows. At times, particularly on the incredible ‘Carrion Suite’ the music is tender and beautiful, like the wind blowing through long grass. At other times, such as on the equally incredible ‘You Woke Me Up’ and the brief but attention-grabbing ‘Spinnet’ the same wind blows and stirs flocks of frenetic birds which circle and dive and weave in seemingly random patterns. Now and again breezes blow in from foreign climes on ‘Hot Math’ and ‘Nyatiti’, while on ‘The Barn Tapes’ the world pauses entirely while the orchestra tunes up and vacuum cleaners buzz idly around the trees. There are ambient moments, and experimental moments, and at some points you might even swear that you were listening to chamber music of old; but the sum of these parts is distinctly Bird. Useless Creatures comes out sounding like an instrumental version of its sister record Noble Beast, only, you know, with different songs. These are the same kind of noises just in a very different context.

Each diverse movement of Useless Creatures is a manifestation of the same inquisitive fingers creeping through the album, feeling out the paths of their growth. The aimlessness of the music frees it from the burden of being something, or meaning something, or achieving anything. This is not Music For Airports nor, as it could quite easily have been, Music for Elevators. This is Music for Summer Evenings, Nowhere In Particular. If you are not an Andrew Bird fan, best not start here. But if you have abandoned yourself to his whimsy then this is a lovely little detour to take.