Conor Oberst- Conor Oberst

For many a moon, and many a whining, wincing and softly-spoken little melody, we've been grabbed, shoved and hurried into the notion that finally, after a prolonged search, Bob Dylan's early years of unbridled genius has returned in the form of Nebraskan song-smith, Conor Oberst- Aka Bright Eyes. An unfair tag to label anyone with, but over the years, Oberst has shown in glimpses of what he is capable, most prominently in his widely-acclaimed, country-soaked "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning".



His latest offering, going under the title of his own name, strips bare any experimentation that languished in albums gone-by, instead sticking to good ol' folk and country-blues. It's beauty lies within its simplicity, laced with his story-telling brilliance, as evident in the quite brilliant sing-along " Get-well-cards", where Oberst journeys us through many different emotion, and images of summer stoked by love "Saw a bleach-blonde boy put his longboard down, help his girl get her sunscreen on".

This is Oberst scratching at the surface, locked deep within his roots, and it pays off quite miraculously well. By and large, it's upbeat, something which carries the album to where exactly is supposed to go, rather than fading off into an abyss of rudimentary boredom and blandness, which so many of these offerings can undertake.Not this one, thankfully, which is a grand testament to Oberst and his unrivaled ability to provide album after album of consistency year after year.Recorded in Mexico, one cannot help but feel the setting at times aptly creeps into moments throughout the album. "Danny Callahan" a factual account of a sickness suffered by an acquaintance of Obersts, stands out in it's somberness, a theme we've all come to expect from Oberst and Bright Eyes.



While some fans of his more obscure works ( Digital Ash In A Digital Urn) may feel a tad disappointed at his latest offering, where rather than traipsing down the road of the unconventional, Oberst provides a stream of tunes that will one minute have your eyes closed, locked in your own stories, the next grabbing your grandmother by the hand, kicking her zimmerframe through the window, and converting your front-room into a barn for an impromptu jig! -( for reference, fling on "NYC-gone, gone".


And so, Oberst, unsurprisingly, produces again. As distinctly immersed in something as quite as unique as a Dylan or a Springsteen, he may not be, but be thankful that in age over-run with a static world of musical mediocrity, someone is still willing to pull aside away from all the hyperbole and tell us a story to give us hope. So as the summer draws to a close, and your mind becomes permeated by a wind-swept and rain-soaked Ireland, Chuck this on, sit back, close your eyes and dream of the sun pouring over a mexican solace......