Five in the morning, the stools are stacked on tables, and the café is peacefully dark and quiet. I drowsily yawn and reach for the stereo. The soft plucking of his violin cascades from the speakers, washes over the bar, and encircles the café. Andrew Bird’s sweet melodic voice echoes as I grind the potent coffee of the day, and his soft lyrics encourage me to “fight for my territory.” My territory is this coffee shop, and his song, “Plasticities,” is a beautiful element of my morning routine.

The song is hardly routine.

It bears its own method and shatters the restrictions of the typical song format. Bird incorporates strategic echoes and blends cello, violin, guitar, vocals, glockenspiel and his signature avian whistle. The vibrant tune brings technicolor to the sleepy café, as the morning sun begins to peak through the windows. As I perform my barista ballet, the plucks and chirps of his violin are pungent and caffeinated like the espresso dripping into the demitasse cups.

As the feather-light vocals reverberate effortlessly with the violin, the low cello floats underneath the soft lyric. “You’re bearing signs for your own waterloo now . . . ” A raw guitar riff rudely interjects and becomes the backbone for the strong chorus. “We’ll fight, fight/for your music halls and dying cities…”

By this point, I am awake and bright. My apron is freckled with fresh coffee grounds, and drowsy customers step out of the dewy morning and into the warm café anticipating their “regular.”

Fresh Ethiopia Sidamo spills out of the urn and into Jim’s mug. I smile, as Bird sings, “I think life is too long/ to be a whale in a cubicle.” Jim puts his briefcase in his other hand, throws in a tip and walks away with his Ethiopian coffee. Reminiscent of this particular coffee blend, “Plasticities” is a full-bodied song with different aromas and layers of flavors. It is complex, but it is warm, rich, and satisfying.

The complexity makes me return to this incredible song. I am curious about Bird’s intent. I recognize something different every time I hear this masterpiece. Similarly, my customers return every morning for the same drink. I am more flattered when customers tell me they like the music brewing behind the bar rather than the artfully poured latte in their mugs, although this brings me pleasure as well.

Bird, however, deserves the credit.

He artfully weaves an oasis, a nest, in his music. Although there is a persistent desire to understand, to taste what the lyrics mean, and to gain familiarity with the unique blend of elements, there is an ongoing and satisfying new experience.

That is how Bird draws in his listeners. There is familiarity, and yet, there is always an intriguing surprise.

This also applies to my little neighborhood coffee shop. There is never a boring day in the café, especially when Andrew Bird is in flight.

Windmills of My Mind is a column written by a different contributor every week on memories about a film, book, play, song, or piece of art. Interested in writing one? E-mail the editor at [email protected].