It's not bad enough to hear bird-inspired jazz-lite muzak, is it. No, we'll need a boring cover of "Blackbird" in there, too, and some forced chromatic vocals that sound nothing so much like an old Broadway star trying give herself some sharp corners. And since we're sticking religiously to the bird thing, we'll need to sprinkle some priceless clunking metaphors over the set—"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul." I tried to give this schmaltz a chance, but that's farther than most listeners will be willing to go.

It gives me no pleasure to bash Susan Krebs like this. She's obviously a hippie sort with an eye drawn to flashy concept above all else. It just so happens that this bird symphony idea is arbitrary and hardly fleshed out. We watch these creatures for their flight and color and music, but such ideas never get chewed on. Notable clashing piano chords and snare smears likewise fail to pay off, ingredients as inert as the occasional birdsong sample. You expect the nimble flute and saxophone of "Ornithology" and "A Nightmare Sang In Berkeley Square" to absorb the melodic playfulness of Krebs' inspirational chanteuses, and yet, for all their musicality, they'll always sound like something dribbling out of supermarket speakers while you're picking out cereal: wispy, substanceless, and, as the choice to cover The Beatles reminds us, completely unnecessary.