Andrew Bird's performance at the Orpheum Theater last Friday night was the scene of a mad scientist in his lab. The singer/songwriter from Chicago, evoking a twitchy chemist, romped across the stage in hot pink socks, furiously switching instruments while whistling perfectly in tune.Bird thrives on these contradictions. It is through his restless, hectic histrionics that he interweaves whistling and violin, guitar and glockenspiel to create a whimsical, breathtaking sound that has defined his 13-year career. Promoting his newest album Noble Beast, the concert showcases Bird's latest creation, which continues many ideas and themes from 2007's Armchair Apocrypha. But from a musician who built a reputation on sweeping, atmospheric creations, rhetorical gallivants and, of course, superhuman whistling, familiarity is a gift rather than a bore.

While Bird on stage opined that his live performances are a party compared to the restrained nature of his studio recordings, almost everyone in the audience disagreed with this assessment of his albums.

Noble Beast, released on Jan. 20, has not had the chance to sink into Bird fans' consciousness, as evidenced by collective groans during the show for more old songs. But its songs will soon enter the canon of Bird classics, as Noble Beast is Bird's most impressive effort yet.

The opening track of the Noble Beast, "Oh No," might just be Bird's strongest single to date, deftly integrating the unique elements that have made him a favorite both in and outside the indie community. Beginning with a pleasant violin melody interspersed with acoustic-guitar fingerpicking, it builds until Bird's catchy whistling replaces the violin. He then launches into lyrics he could have stolen from a Scrabble game played by linguists: "In the salsify mains of what was thought but unsaid/All the calcified arythmatists were doing the math."

The contradictions that enliven his live performances are no less prominent and enjoyable here. "Oh No"'s chorus suggests, as Bird himself helpfully explained in a New York Times blog-entry, that adulthood oppresses our emotions, rendering us all in a collective state of psychosis: "Oh arm in arm we are the harmless sociopaths/Arm in arm with all the harmless sociopaths/In the calcium mines buried deep in our chests." This music of this verse, opposing the lyrics' depressive sentiment, is pleasurable and upbeat, prone to hours of addictive humming.

Bird disagrees with himself again on "Fitz and Dizzyspells," an exuberant and cheerful melody played over haunting and bleak lyrics. Though the words suggest that our efforts are made in vain because "the language is broken," the music erupts with the optimism and indefatigable nature of the human spirit.

"Natural Disaster," which Bird chose to open with at the Orpheum, is another beautifully crafted, eerie construction, with Bird's soothing voice calmly, almost indifferently describing the tragic destruction of nature. Bird introduces the scene with an innocent, childlike melody reminiscent of an idyllic summer's day at camp, but the story to follow is one of destruction and disorder.

Though Bird so skillfully combines his talents on Noble Beast, some songs struggle to find themselves. "Tenuousness" drags on, without a chorus to reference and with an unmemorable sound. The lyrics, though clever, are even more impenetrable than usual: "Tenuousness less seven comes to three/Them you us plus 11/Comes just shy of infinity/And that's for those who live and die for numerology."

"Anonanimal" completely shifts gears and improves itself, at the halfway point but makes us wish the entire song were as enjoyable.

Though Bird is not perfect on Noble Beast, he is at his frenzied best. The music and lyrics constantly bicker between happy and sad, hope and devastation, offering the joy of his whistling over the helpless weeping violin. Never static, always pondering and reflective, Noble Beast is his best, most nuanced album yet.

Just as Bird's dichotomies on Noble Beast offer a realistic picture of our fickle, unstable nature, his stage performance reveals a man with incredible talents who is prone to gaffes, of which there were several. But his fans came to enjoy these miscues almost as much as his soaring ballads. It is his way of interacting and conversing with the audience, of personifying the themes his fans so easily relate to in his music.

The self-deprecating Bird might downplay his album in favor of the more organic live performance, but his abilities to convey his accessible sentiments are just as potent on the stage of the Orpheum as on the home stereo.