Pidgeon - Viva la Baroque 

Originally meaning "an irregular pearl," Baroque is a term used to describe a musical and artistic style that is defined by contrast. Bach, Vivaldi, and Handel are some of the composers who are known as masters of striking composition – molding irregularities and opposing forces into unprecedented compositions guaranteed to send the listener on an emotional, moving journey through space and time. With contrasts extending from loud to soft and fluid to abrupt, new themes such as diatonic tonality and sonata-like prose redefined Baroque era music with range and complexity. Defined now by emotional outburst and romantic themes, Baroque composition revolutionized music both for the listener and writer alike. 

Pidgeon - Viva la Baroque 

Originally meaning "an irregular pearl," Baroque is a term used to describe a musical and artistic style that is defined by contrast. Bach, Vivaldi, and Handel are some of the composers who are known as masters of striking composition – molding irregularities and opposing forces into unprecedented compositions guaranteed to send the listener on an emotional, moving journey through space and time. With contrasts extending from loud to soft and fluid to abrupt, new themes such as diatonic tonality and sonata-like prose redefined Baroque era music with range and complexity. Defined now by emotional outburst and romantic themes, Baroque composition revolutionized music both for the listener and writer alike. 

What does this have to do with Pidgeon? Why mention music composed by wig-wearing dead dudes from the 18th century when talking about mind-blowing post-millennial indie rock? Because it's important. Pidgeon are, amongst many other wonderful things, San Francisco's very own irregular pearl. 

For anyone who has heard Pidgeon or seen the ensemble live, the concept of complex opposing layers makes perfect sense. And using the word ensemble instead of "band" makes perfect sense as well. Different personalities, presences, and backgrounds merge within Pidgeon in a way that not only works, but leads you to believe that the band could not and should not exist any other way. 

Musically, Pidgeon are like a beautiful swan song thrown into a blender. Their songs express beauty and pain, unity and isolation, continuity and disjunction all at once. Much like Rembrandt paintings are defined by their contrast of light and dark, so too are Pidgeon defined by their opposing forces.  

The musicianship in Pidgeon is amazing first and foremost. The instrumentation in Pidgeon's songs is not only brilliantly arranged and masterfully executed, but they also seem to be very aware of themselves. Not in a post-modern "we're doing this and let's acknowledge that we're doing this" kind of way, but in a "yes, we know how to play & we know what the fuck we're doing" kind of way. It's humble, humbling, and it's as jaw dropping as it is moving. The guitars are played brilliantly, with their melodies sometimes complimenting but often times opposing each other, yet always coming together... Even at their most at-odds moments the guitars need each other and cannot exist alone. This seems to be a microcosm for the lyrical content of the band's songs as well – themes of isolation and darkness weave themselves into an underlying, unspoken, unconscious, urgent need for the communal. 

The rhythm section of Pidgeon has no easy task. I've always wondered how bassists and drummers manage to keep up with abrupt/unexpected changes in song structure without ruining the integrity of the song. Songs can so easily be ruined by those ridiculous fills that cue both the listener and the band members that a change in the song structur is coming. They may as well have a peg-legged pirate screaming out: "Yargh! Batten down the hatches! Song change a-comin'!" This, subsequently, is not an issue Pidgeon has to deal with. The bass and the drums move with the guitars totally in sync and with such intuition that it feels like fate has brought the band to play together. Pidgeon spare sucker punches and surprises for no one, and they demand respect for it. 

While the songs sway between heavy and soft, lots of note picking and heavy chords, the vocals are what really define the contrast of the band's songs while also acting as the tie that binds. Val and Micah share vocal duties, and while both act as story tellers, eerily laying emotional blankets upon the listener, both vocalists bring their own defining tangents into the songs themselves. Val's voice is angelic and soft and shockingly pitch perfect. For all the times I've seen/listened to Pidgeon, I've never heard her miss a note.

There's a part of me that wants to shake her and yell, "Val, you're making the rest of us look bad. Please, please just miss a note! Just once. Please!" But she can't: a) 'cause she's just that good, and b). her pitch perfect vocals are what make Pidgeon, well… Pidgeon.

Beautiful, soft feminine vocals layering throughout the sonic chaos and flux & flow of Pidgeon's songs, encapsulating contrast and turning it into beauty. I dare you to listen to "War Pickle" without getting a lump in your throat. Dare you. In fact, let's raise the stakes: I double dog dare you. 

The lyrical content, as you may probably well expect by now, also plays into the duality of Pidgeon's music. "He's with you always alone and in the darkness is known as the beholder of tone and the recorder of old" are not the words you expect to hear out of a small, stunning, pixie-like vocalist/guitarist. Yet Val can bring the dark imagery and make it work, it's uncanny, really. Micah's vocals are the perfect supplement to Val. He effortlessly switches between perfect gentle harmonies and balls-out, soul-bearing screaming. "Backwards Hell" is the perfect encapsulation of Micah's gift for both lyrics and vocals: he gives this listener goose-bumps, which is not such an easy task. 

At times heavy and drony (think Shellac, Rodan) and other times poppy and accessible (think Velocity Girl, Bettie Serveert), Pidgeon are of and in themselves a beautiful composition; an ensemble of opposing forces, landscapes, eras and histories, united almost indestructibly to remind us all that poetry and art are still so real that it hurts. That is of course to say that it hurts in the best way possible. 

Pidgeon remind me of what Carol King may have been been trying to say with "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)." Pidgeon will hit you, and it will fill so very very good, assuming you can breathe afterwards. 

[Jen Chochinov]

[STREAM] Pidgeon: "Strelnikov", "Six Minutes in the Sun"