Bright Eyes I’m Wide Awake It's Morning

It is telling that the intelligent reviews posted on amazon since Conor Oberst released his latest two albums are all on the Digital Ash In A Digital Urn page. It’s the progressive album of the two apparently, the departure from years' worth of beautiful acoustic ditties that if I’d been around for I might be writing about too. Fact is, I’m a new listener (where was I during his teenage years? I bet they were graceful) so I’m quite happy with this one for now and sense that it is rather a lovely album to be starting a lifelong appreciation with. In fact, its gushing amazon posts are positively heart-warming, with openings like ‘Its hard to imagine that a person who is only 24 can have so emotion.’

Well yes, he certainly has plenty of that and good on him. The album threatens to break at times if you hold on too tight – notably on pared down Lua - yet for all its delicacy it has a marvellous strength, a robust energy that acts as a seal, felt powerfully on the opening and closing tracks. Throughout it he sings about being nowhere and no one - in the grey absence that is mornings - with a zeal that spans joyous, defiant and evangelical. A desire for escape runs the length of it, with a lot of talk about walking away, but horns kick in - Land Locked Blues - drums thump, cymbals clash and guitar goes wild - Old Soul Song (For The New World Order) and the wonderful Emmy Lou Harris joins in when he is wide awake in the midst of life. At The Bottom Of Everything - the fabulous, energetic opening that is both a manuscript for living and an ode to death - is no cause for concern.

There is a lot of the priest in Conor Oberst. The epicentre of the album, penultimate Poison Oak, plays like a kind of benediction for a transvestite brother who ‘got away’. Sometime after it had stopped my heart, it sent me off to Sparklehorse looking for yellow birds. (I found some.) The swells of the record, with its military drum beats, sparky acoustic guitar and warm electric guitar and horns, are then washed right up onto the shore with a discordant tumult of sound in Road To Joy. ‘I could have been a famous singer if I had someone else’s voice, but failure’s always sounded better - let’s fuck it up boys, make some noise.’

Well then. What a glorious fuck up.

Album release date: 25/01/05
Who: Bright Eyes
Review: Jane Rich
Pitchfork review: Bright Eyes