Bright Eyes

Conor Oberst. As possibly the eighth wonder of the indie/underground world, the reviewing of his latest album Cassadaga and more recent live show at Massey Hall in Toronto comes as both a challenge and an epiphany. To gain some perspective of my Oberst view, however, I think it is crucial that I explain my humble beginnings and introduction to Mr. Oberst’s musical child - Bright Eyes.

Enter Jon Adams - one of my greatest friends and BWC sports editor/writer extraordinaire. Generally, when Jon is excited about something (a piece of music, a film or a sporting event), he tends to talk it up. Now, I can be just as much of a hype-generator as the next guy but when it comes to music, I find that the proof is usually in the pudding. Even though Jonny left my wife and I with The Story is in the Soil and Wide Awake, It’s Morning on one of his 2005 visits, I still couldn’t bring myself to get into the so-called “genius” my friend couldn’t stop talking about. Though the instrumentation was interesting and folksy enough, I found myself listening to the songs while walking, or on car rides, often cringing at the lyrically exhaustive, stinging voice of the lyricist.

Let’s fast forward to the summer of 2006. While working at a summer camp, I usually frequent for a week or two each August, I was hangin’ with two of my youthful, musically inspired friends - Paul Chartrand and Dan Larocque. Both of these lads, though barely cracking the legal drinking age bracket, have shown a definite maturity in their music tastes in my years of knowing them. With both of them also being massive Bright Eyes fans (and Dan being my co-concertgoer last Wednesday), they had a video they wanted to show me of a live performance on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson (you can find it on YouTube). “Surely,” I thought, “this instance will win me over and make me realize what Jon has been telling me all along about Bright Eyes and an internal light of revelation will find its power source within me.”

The performance was nothing more than average, ending with Oberst smashing a $5,000 electric guitar on the set with the trumpet player following suit, folding the rim of the shiny, brass horn back on to itself. The funniest part of the clip, though, is Craig Ferguson’s mini-interview with Oberst, asking him “What he was thinking” and Oberst being unable to formulate an answer. This clip not only affirmed my growing dislike for Bright Eyes but also accelerated it to a point of no return.

May 4, 2007 - Enter Cassadaga. My reluctance to listen to this disc was outweighed by my desire to hear this so-called “mature” side of Oberst (along with much nudging from both Jon and Dan). My guard, however, was finally brought down and the lackluster soap boxing of his old persona that had repelled my ears for so long, melted into a head-nodding respect that would not let me take this disc out of my player for weeks. Modeled around a community of psychics and spiritual mediums (actually named Cassadaga) in Florida that he spend some time within, Oberst apparently did a great deal of soul-searching upon the recording of this album. From the first piano-laced words and notes of “If The Brakeman Turns My Way”, the rate of maturation is stunning. The song deals with a deep depression and restlessness at the heart of the human condition that anyone who has ever wrestled with anxiety knows well: “When panic grips your body and your heart is a hummingbird/Raven thoughts blacken your mind until you’re breathing in reverse/All your friends and sedatives mean well but make it worse/Every reassurance just magnifies the doubt/Better find yourself a place to level out”.

Though musically grander and more produced than any of his works to date, it seems Conor has channeled the ability to just let the songs form instead of pushing so hard to prove a point and beating his words into circular dust trails that lead nowhere. Oberst’s old act of forcing is gone and a new late 20s wisdom is showing through all he’s learned in the yearning for deeper meaning and solitude in his own life and in the lives of others around him. Cassadaga is a monumental album with richly thematic and restless lyrics. Unlike Feist or modern rockers who hint at a topic, Bright Eyes depicts and wrestles with the wanderings and journeys of lonely characters who, like the community of Cassadaga, are all trying to find their way to spiritual enlightenment.

What irked me most about past Bright Eyes meanderings were his incessant, whiny, political blastings, causing uninformed teens to raise their fists in unison at yet another post-modern “system-crasher” who didn’t seem to have any real purpose other than defining post-modernism itself: the abolishment of all systems. Cassadaga, however, shows a reserved maturity in the depth of Oberst’s songwriting and in lives of the characters involved in each lyrical storyline. “Hot Knives” tells the story of a woman whose religious pursuits have left her totally unfulfilled at every turn: “The Wife forgave the Mistress for she only entertained/the pain was gone the instant she cleared her throat to speak her name/she said, ‘Both of us must suffer from the same unending ache’/’When I do wrong, I am with God,’ she thought/’When I feel lost, I am not at all/Oh, I’ve made love, yeah, I’ve been f**ked, so what?/I’m a cartoon, you’re a full moon, let’s stay up’”. “Hot Knives” is a bone-tingler and a standout song on the album but amazingly enough, there are many others of its caliber like “Soul Singer in a Session Band” (a head-bobbing, rock ballad depicting a man who sings with many bands for the sheer enjoyment and for the ‘soul’ of real music) and “The Cleanse Song” (one of the best songs, if not the best and most melodic of the album, depicting the void left behind by substance abuse). The rich character narratives of Cassadaga are definitely worth a listen on their own and could be, at times, compared to the lyrical stylings of David Bazan (Pedro The Lion).

Final fast forward and bookend to my Bright Eyes tale - Wednesday, May 22, 2007. I met my friend Dan at Union Station in Toronto and after some pub grub, we hit the historical venue of Massey Hall. Though mildly overshadowed by an incredible opening performance from Gillian Welch (and her phenomenal guitarist David Rawlings), Bright Eyes did not disappoint. No guitars were smashed and a very longhaired, white-suited Conor nerdily thrust and awkwardly jerked his body during every epic crux within each song. With an impressive live-motion, emotional response artwork screen behind the ever-talented band (featuring two very hard-hitting female drummers), the table for the mood of every song was elegantly set. A defining factor of the show, however, was seen in Conor’s reluctance to dip into any of his older, angrier repertoires showing, perhaps, that he has grown up and wants to be seen in different light. Though the odd fan would loudly request obscure song titles from old EPs and Oberst’s younger tunes (i.e. “Something Vague”, “President”), he stayed focused on the work of Cassadaga and only played two songs from older albums.

Bright Eyes are somewhat of a modern musical anomaly; a musical troupe who fully invest themselves into their craft, both onstage and on vinyl, under the direction of a very charismatic, moody and opinionated leader. Being an old Pumpkins fan, Oberst’s emotional investment into his music is somewhat Corgan-esque (though the musical flavour differs greatly between BE and SP). The self-examining and effacing work of Oberst, especially on Cassadaga, pushes him into musical martyrdom as his songs leave a hint of genius but yet are somehow overshadowed by a sadness that remains in a constant dissatisfaction and wrestling with the world around him. If Oberst can stay in the current vein he seems to be thriving in on Cassadaga, I’d say his vastly popularized musical career has really only just begun.