Virgin of the Birds’ “And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur” – named (minus an exclamation mark, for some reason – I mean, how could you say that sentence without exclaiming?) after a visionary painting by Leonora Carrington (only original wiki-rockers Virgin of the Birds could hip me to a mid-20th-century surrealist I’d never heard of by way of an instrumental track) – seems to be two pieces in one. The first act is a simple, low-key groove, anchored by a syncopated, almost funky bass line, joined by scattered percussion and sparse fills of guitar and keys. This movement calls to mind Can winding down an epic set at the end of a long night of German beer and sausages. (I don’t know if Can played epic sets at venues that served German beer and sausages, or even if they were the sort of band to wind down sets or if they just went full bore until something burst or somebody collapsed, but just go with me on this.) Then, about halfway through, the rhythm is gone, most of the recognizable instruments are gone, and we just have drone – beautiful, woozy drone – and a few sparse piano notes. Maybe most of the band has packed up now, the bassist left their instrument leaning up against the amp, and someone ambled up on stage to pick out a few phrases on the old upright piano up against the wall as the drunks stumble out into the night? Sure, why not?
But why, I hear you asking, why was this what Virgin of the Birds created from a painting of a bull goddess in a red robe, two children in black, floating bubbles, clouds in the rafters, a fallen rose, and, well, everything else going on here? And again I say, why not?