As intoxicating as a Brazilian breeze and ironic as a David Lynch night in L.A., the Los Angeles duo the Bird and the Bee make a soothingly hip, deliriously cool blend of pop. Inara George is a breathy singer who channels Astrud Gilberto via Julee Cruise. Although still little known, she's the daughter of the late Lowell George of Little Feat, and she already has recordings out with a couple of other bands. Keyboardist and producer Greg Kurstin has worked with Beck and the Flaming Lips, among many others, and the duo share a passion for that brand of art pop along with the more whimsical indie strains of Le Tigre. The album is overflowing with references from '60s pop harpsichords to girl-group choruses. You half expect Lesley Gore to come out singing harmony on "I'm a Broken Heart," an homage to "It's My Party." A jazz aficionado, Kurstin has put all kinds of jazzbo touches in here, including some unlikely chord changes and tropicalia moods. Only "F*cking Boyfriend," with that phrase chanted in the chorus, seems artlessly out of place on an album that revels in sly innuendo and emotional ambiguity. --John Diliberto
Already named one of '10 bands on the horizon in 2007' by the Los Angeles Times the press reaction to The Bird and The Bee has been extraordinary with early confirmed feature coverage including LA Times. Inara George and Greg Kurstin, alias The Bird and The Bee, are an army of two. They listen to everything, and answer to no one. Over the course of 3 years, they whiled away scattered afternoons in Greg's home studio in Echo Park, sequestered in a little world of their own making, creating sunshine-drenched, semippsychedelic ditties. Made up of vocalist Inara George, who has been aptly referred to as 'a modem day Audrey Hepburn with the voice of an angel,' and keyboardist/producer Greg Kurstin, who has lent his talents to records by Beck, The Flaming Lips, Lily Allen, Peaches, and many more, The Bird and The Bee take elements of everything from the Beach Boys to 60's Brazil to electronica, spinning them into this irrepressible collection of then sunshine-drenched, semi-psychedelic ditties.