Letting Off the Happiness

by

Bright Eyes

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The album starts off with noise that leaves you wondering what to expect, then all of the sudden, a tenderly strummed acoustic guitar comes into the sonic realm and your worries are relieved. "If Winter Ends" isn't a song to listen to while driving..."Padraic my Prince", melodically, is one of the best songs on here. Lyrically, it tells the tale of untimely death and a suicide pact to make up for it...it's not a happy album, folks. The female backing vocals give "Contrast and Compare" an interesting sound. The songs full of great lines people sometimes quote: 'I can't breathe with these words in my mouth'. "The City has Sex" is a faster paced song about the city and the people in it. One reviewer called "Touch" 'bedroom techno', and I can't think of a better way to describe it. It starts off semi-industrial but then morphs into something that sounds like an oldies station with manic depression. "June on the West Coast" is basically a country song without the typical redneck style vocals. The simple melody and Dylan-ish vocal delivery have been stuck in my head on many, many days. "A Poetic Retelling of an Unfortunte Seduction" is haunting to say the least. The album closes with "Tereza and Tomas" (a reference to Milan Kundera's excellent book The Unbearable Lightness of Being). The song is aching in its beauty. Its about love and escape, two of the things that often keep us going. If you listen to this with your eyes closed, it takes you away to another place. This album is underproduced, some might say, but a lo-fi fan might say that's exactly what makes it great. I don't know. The lack of production makes it seem very earnest, very genuine, and very very real. Unlike a lot of the fake and contrived "emo" out there today, this album is truly an emotional experience. I don't know if that requires it be labeled emo, but if it does, it certainly lives up to the title. Conor writes with such genuine honesty that you can't help but listen to and remember every word he sings. And the singing, oh my...he sings like he cries and it doesn't sound lame. If that's not an accomplishment, I don't know what is.

The debut from modern folk-prodigy Oberst was a noisy, rambling, sometimes melodic wreck of an acoustic-based, whine-intensive album which often disguises a songwriting edge with harsh production accentuating grating vocals. Still, at a mere 18 years old it was no wonder that borrowed charisma and instrumental knowledge combined to turn many heads in the industry. Behind the jangly and blatant pleas for attention this Dylan upstart had forged for himself at that point (fractured, goaty vocals and dissonant, musically frustrated climaxes) lies an undeniable songwriting intelligence that shines brightest in tiny transitions while Oberst is not so determined to convince his listener he is in pain.