Bright Eyes—Lifted or The Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground
Let me just preface this by saying how overjoyed Becky is to begin the Bright Eyes segment of this project. And let me follow that preface by admitting that it is a lie. Although she is loath to admit it, Becky sort of likes Bright Eyes. She mocks me constantly, but actually likes sad little Conor’s music. That said, I should admit that I really and truly love Bright Eyes. I found their music when I was a sad, sorry little college freshman and connected in a way that was only rivaled in its resonance by my first reading of The Perks of Being a Wallflower that same year. I know, I know, I’m a cliché. But my love of Bright Eyes has grown from its sad little roots to an appreciation of what Conor has done over the years that is bigger than my initial, guttural reaction to his morose drunken poetry. Now that you have the background, let’s move on to Lifted. It starts out just as most of Bright Eyes’ records do, with a long intro that sounds like it was accidentally recorded in someone’s car and a droning, too-long, overindulgent and slightly off-key song seemingly designed to deter non-fans from continuing with the record. If you can get past the nearly 9-minute long “The Big Picture” you can move on to where the album proper starts, with one of my favorite Bright Eyes songs, “Method Acting.” “Method Acting” is one of those songs I loved long ago that holds up now, with its upbeat tempo almost hiding Oberst’s sadness and the lyrics easily confused with a positive message. If you take a closer listen, you can see that it’s as sad as ever, but with the drums suggesting a marching band and the arrangement building and finally trailing off, you can almost imagine that this track is a little glimpse into near-happiness. Likewise with the following track, “False Advertising,” you get a staccato snare drum reminiscent of a marching band and a building and lurching arrangement of instruments that makes you feel like you might be at the world’s saddest band concert. In a good way, for the most part. Next up is "You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.," a track that I will (har har) admit makes me think immediately of my wife. I’m a boomerang, you see, and I did return to her. The sad-yet-determined lyrics paired with the booming sound of the full band (which at this point in Bright Eyes’ history had a tendency to be quite extensive) makes for a quick and fun yet typically sad Bright Eyes tune. There is a reason this album is a classic, and this song is part of that legacy. Ah, Side Two. It begins with one of the most Bright Eyes-est Bright Eyes songs ever. Drugs, sadness, empty sex and sado-masochistic overtones? It must be “Lover I Don’t Have to Love.” While this track may be overwrought and a little too on-message for Bright Eyes, it is a genius song. The organ works perfectly with the minimal guitars and you can just picture sad, handsome, bisexually-inclined Conor meeting some willowy indie rock boy after a show and having his drug-fueled way with him. If “Lover” is a little much for you, it’s followed up by almost genuinely cheery “Bowl of Oranges.” This song was, I think, the most commercially successful single on this album and I can see why that is. Not my favorite song, but I am a little sad-sack at heart so you can see why. “Don’t Know When But a Day Is Gonna Come” picks up where “Lover” left off, bringing warbling vocals to a bold, almost orchestral backing sound and sad, sad, lyrics. Sad and drunk are some key elements to the record and this track typifies both feelings. Moving on to Side Three, the highlight there is “Waste of Paint,” another self-indulgent march through various characters with various flaws, highlighting Oberst’s own feelings of a lack of meaning and self-worth. While the premise of the song is a little trying, the track itself is a good listen with the continuation of the large marching band sound present in much of the record. And finally the record ends mirroring its beginning, first with the barroom dirge “Laura Laurent” and then in the quick transition to a rollicking-yet-quite-lengthy track, “Let’s Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and to Be Loved)” and the obligatory trail-out to a weird spoken word segment that takes the full run time of the song to around ten minutes. Lyrical highlights include bits about whiskey and pills and daddy issues. Typical. And honestly, I don’t mean that in a bad way. This album typifies what early Bright Eyes was all about and still manages to be a great record. Now on to the rest of my Bright Eyes collection—I swear I’ll cut down on my word count from here on out.
Bright Eyes—There Is No Beginning to the Story EP
I should actually have listened to this before Lifted but I had them interposed on my shelf. Listening to this right after Lifted may seem a little repetitive, but what are you going to do? There are rules to this project and I am unwilling to break them. Plus this EP has a couple of nice little surprises. It starts out with “From a Balance Beam,” a song I enjoy for its brilliantly layered vocals and that omnipresent snare from much of Lifted. Then the EP departs from the big sound of Lifted and goes into a more acoustic sound with “Messenger Bird’s Song,” a track I could give or take but that does have a really nice banjo in the background. The rest of the EP is good—not great. It closes out appropriately with a Neil Young cover (vinyl only) that is a little rough around the edges but live and drunk and pretty perfect.
Bright Eyes—I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning
I own only one of the two 2005 Bright Eyes releases (the other being Digital Ash in a Digital Urn) for the simple reason that when they came out I favored this one. I’ve since reconsidered the merit of Digital Ash but I do remain certain that I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning is a quality record. And lucky for me, it was much more indicative of where Bright Eyes would go with their next album. In 2005 indie rock was just starting to feel the pull of old-fashioned country influence and Bright Eyes was leading the charge of hipsters in all matter of boots stomping their way through the mid-2000s, ironically mustachioed and clad in plaid. Trends aside, this record is good. There are moments of boot-stomping fun (“Another Travelin’ Song”), beautifully simple love songs (“First Day of my Life”), and really fantastic guest vocalists (Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Maria Taylor of Azure Ray, Andy LeMaster of Now It’s Overhead, and the incredible Emmilou Harris who steals the show a little). As I was listening I tried to tune in on the little things that I often miss when I listen casually while walking or on the train. I really picked up on the quality that Emmilu Harris adds to this record. Conor’s voice is what it is, and it works. But Harris’s voice takes that slightly rough country thing and elevates it to the next level of quality. All in all, this is a good album and I was glad to give it a good listen.
Bright Eyes—Cassadega
My reaction to Cassadega surprised me. I thought I liked this album, but as I listened I found myself wishing that it would hurry up and end—not a great sign of enjoyment. There are definitely songs I enjoy here, “Hot Knives,” “Four Winds,” and my favorite track of the album “I Must Belong Somewhere” are really good tunes. I just found myself feeling a little unenthusiastic about the record. Maybe my next project will be to go back to the low points of my collection and give them a good listen over headphones with undivided attention.
Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band—Conor Oberst
I own one of the two Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band solo project records, and I really do enjoy this record. Conor’s clearly in a certain space here, channeling Bob Dylan perhaps more than he ever does, with his typically rocky vocals (here without the drunken quaver of earlier albums) and a rambling, traveling spirit influenced by time spend touring and in Mexico. It’s a rock-folk record, very listenable, but not one I’d pick all the time. Pretty ideal for background music while doing chores on a Saturday or at a casual dinner party during dessert or after dinner drinks.
Bright Eyes—The People’s Key
I will admit, I was really excited for a new Bright Eyes record. After a couple years of side projects I was ready for Bright Eyes again. I went out to Newbury Comics on my lunch break the day the album came out and bought it in a real store even though I probably could have saved money online. I wanted to have that record in my hands on the Tuesday it came out, bring it home, and put it right on my turntable. I felt like a little kid, in a good way. Now, I won’t pretend The People’s Key is some groundbreaking album that will be in heavy rotation for years to come. But I do like it, and some of the songs are really great. “Shell Games” is a track that Bright Eyes released for free download prior to the album drop in February (on Mr. Oberst’s birthday no less) and I won’t front—I listened to it over and over for an entire T ride to work. I love it. The production is smooth and big, the instruments are crisp and layered, and it has that bit of electronic sound that can work so well for Bright Eyes. The melody is catchy and the song never fails to impress. The whole album shares that big production and I think it benefits. I love old Bright Eyes, and part of what I love is the lo-fi sound they got recording in Conor’s basement. But this album is just so listenable, and I don’t mean that in a disparaging way. It’s enough weird (the audio recordings of Refried Ice Cream’s Denny Brewer discussing his religious ideas that border on science fiction) and enough fun to really work.
No comments:
Post a Comment