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 Ever since the final Bright Eyes release, the boy-like appeal of relationship problems and pity has been replaced by the boy-like appeal of a teenager who has found his first Johnny Cash record.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.

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