Still Life by The Bird’s Companion: A Quiet Masterpiece That Stays With You
You know when you stumble across an album that feels like it was made just for you? Like, somehow, the artist peeked into your soul and pulled out all the messy bits to turn them into music? That’s Still Life by The Bird’s Companion. Released in 2016, this Canadian gem straddles classical and alternative vibes with a contemporary twist. And let me tell ya—it’s hauntingly beautiful.
First off, Casey van Wensem deserves a medal or something. I mean, seriously, the dude did EVERYTHING here: piano, keyboards, engineering, mixing, mastering… It’s like he locked himself in a room and refused to leave until every note was perfect. The result? An album that feels intimate, raw, and deeply personal—like listening to someone’s diary but way less creepy.
Now, onto the tracks. There are four total, and each one hits different, but two stood out to me so much they’ve been stuck in my head for days. Let’s talk about “Twelve Sunflowers” first. This track is pure magic. It starts off soft, almost hesitant, like those first few brushstrokes on a blank canvas. Then BAM—it builds into this lush, swirling piece that feels like standing in a field of sunflowers at sunset. (Yeah, I went there.) The layers of sound feel alive, shifting and breathing around you. Honestly, it’s the kind of song that makes you stop scrolling through your phone mid-binge and just… listen.
Then there's “Negative Space.” Oh man, this one gutted me. If “Twelve Sunflowers” is vibrant color, this track is its shadowy counterpart. Sparse piano notes hang in the air like unanswered questions, leaving gaps that ache more than words ever could. It reminds me of staring at an empty chair after someone leaves—a mix of sadness and nostalgia wrapped up in three minutes of brilliance. Every time I hear it, I swear I can feel my chest tighten a little. Weirdly comforting though.
What strikes me most about Still Life is how unpolished yet intentional it feels. You won’t find flashy production tricks or over-the-top arrangements here. Instead, it’s stripped-down and honest, like Casey didn’t care about impressing anyone—he just wanted to create something real. And honestly? That’s rare these days. Too many artists try too hard to be cool or edgy, but this album doesn’t bother. It simply exists, quietly confident in its own weird little world.
So yeah, if you’re looking for background noise while folding laundry, this might not be your jam. But if you want music that digs deep and stays with you long after the last note fades, give Still Life a spin. Just don’t blame me if you end up crying in your coffee over “Negative Space.”
Random thought to leave you with: Listening to this album feels like finding an old photograph tucked inside a book—you didn’t know you needed it, but now you can’t imagine life without it.
