Davy Jones passed away last week. Other than recognising the monophonic version of their theme tune that seemed to pipe out of crusty claw machines on seaside promenades from Brighton to Bognor Regis, The Monkees’ genius seemed to slip a lot of this generation by.

But Davy delivered a line in their 1968 cult classic film Head that was a witticism worthy of the weariest Woody Allen script: “Wait! Don’t move! I wanna forget you exactly as you are.”

The follow-up to 2008’s acclaimed Noble Beast, Break It Yourself is no reinvention of Andrew Bird’s sound, but it is an upgrade: more spacious and tender, with a richer palette of sounds. From the subaqueous choir that opens the album to the epic ‘Hole in the Ocean Floor’ at its climax, the album has maritime influences, particularly of yesteryear, coursing through its veins.

However, at the beating heart of Break It Yourself is the question, "If memory serves us, then who owns the master?” Unlike Davy, on the standout track ‘Lazy Projector’ Bird knows he can splice the 35mm film of his memories with the blunt blade that is his songwriting. “That forgetting, embellishing, lying machine” can leave the painful parts on the recording room floor. The nature of memories - some fleeting, always fading - is at the heart of Bird’s most personal project yet.

Although the album features a marvellous menagerie of strings and reeds, with the exception of the energetic ‘Eyeoneye’ most of the tracks tend to sound quite similar and lack any real jagged edges. However, when the record is as hauntingly jaunty as the teetering ‘Lusitania,’ which features St. Vincent’s Annie Clark, or as serene as the beautiful ‘Sifters,’ it can be an easy flaw to forgive.

Bird plays it safe on Break It Yourself; by refining his signature sound, though, he has produced a less accessible but more rewarding listen that will be impossible to forget.