Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Bland

Remember the days when being a socially conscious teenager meant turning to a Bright Eyes record for poetic verse that summed up all the political and social grievances that you thought you had? I’d like to think that most of Conor Oberst’s followers have outgrown the angst-ridden dismissive remarks against religion, the government, and conformity, and somehow managed to devise personas of their own; but Mr. Oberst seems unwilling to make this realization.

Fans may have heard that his newest release, Outer South, is a step in a different direction. And while the first release under the moniker “Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band” represents a whole lot of change, he still seems as lost as he had on the teenage ramblings of Lifted or the Story is in the Soil.

Oberst must have traveled somewhere warmer and grown a beard, because long gone is the Bright Eyes seasonal appeal of winter-like balladry. Ever since the final Bright Eyes release, the boy-like appeal of relationship problems and pity has been replaced by the boy-like appeal of a teenager who has found his first Johnny Cash record. He’d like for you to think he were a man, noticeable on the guttural singing of tracks like “Ten Women” where he tries to fill the hole that a 1960’s Bob Dylan had left behind.

Also gone is Oberst’s ego (or at least hidden for a while). When his 2008, self-titled release came out, he hadn’t even managed to include the ‘Mystic Valley Band’ as a part of the release. That’s all in the past though, as Oberst allowed his bandmates the opportunity to not only sing a few tracks, but out of the seven sung by non-Conors, six weren’t even penned by him.

It’s a good idea in theory, as a progression away from Bright Eyes’ personal pronouns and the idea of being a loner would ultimately lead to inclusion of outside voices; but no one banked on those outside voices actually being worse singers than the nasally boy wonder himself. Taylor Hollingsworth’s “Air Mattress” sounds like a country band playing a Hellogoodbye tune, while Nik Frietas’s “Big Black Nothing” and Jason Boesel’s “Difference in Time” ring like a track written by Oberst himself, but without any of the charm. Had they no connection to Conor Oberst, I doubt they’d even see the light of day.

This isn’t to say the album is utter trash, as songs like opener “Slowly (Oh So Slowly)” and the acoustic “White Shoes” still manage to muster up enough appeal to be memorable. But with a 70 minute long Americana album, it’s hard to find a concrete focus and selling point. This is still a representation of a musician in transition, as he breaks into unprecedented territory in many ways; he simply hasn’t yet offered listeners a reason to accept the change.

Head over to Conor Oberst’s myspace for a chance to hear “Slowly (Oh So Slowly)” and “Nikorette.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 7th, 2009 at 7:25 pm and is filed under Leisure, Vox Populi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.