hile most folks predicted that Ryan and Sergio would one day “hook up,” many were nonetheless surprised by their lovechild, Birds & Souls, which bore surprisingly little sonic resemblance to either parent.
Ryan Crosson, currently of Berlin but with connections to Detroit, was known as a talented young producer who tended toward dark, minimal rhythmic explorations; Sergio Giorgini, a somewhat dedicated schoolteacher, was known, if at all, for his inclination towards mellow Caribbean sounds and angular, lo-fi ‘90s indie rock. Yet Birds & Souls are neither lo-fi nor indie, dark
nor minimal. If anything, Birds & Souls fantasize less about the dancefloor than the rock show, with its gigantic sing-along choruses and tawdry fans tossing their nether-garments, beer bottles, and dignity onto the tattered stage.
And while it’s true that Birds & Souls’ debut single “Birds & Souls” marches to a bigger, louder drummer than most, there is, of course, plenty of dance magic to go around. Like a spiritual seeker in the Himalayas, Birds & Souls’ eponymous single quests ever upward until it reaches enlightenment at a transcendent arpeggiated climax.