Conor Oberst Conor Oberst by: Justin Pearsall Wed:20-Aug-08 Label: Merge Year: 2008 WB rating 71 out of 100

A criticism often levied against Bright Eyes, Conor Oberst’s band and most popular incarnation, is that the songwriting can cross the divide between the good and the bad of ‘intensely personal’. It seems strange then that Oberst has again chosen to go the solo route – this is Oberst’s fourth solo album, his first in 13 years – retackling a format that is most commonly associated with artists seeking a more introspective medium.

In fairness to Oberst the distinction between the good and the bad of personal songwriting is a subtle line. It is a distinction as much created by listener perceptions as artist intent. The rise-and-rise of the singer-songwriter has made the ‘personal’ claims of a voice and a guitar blurry, and undoubtedly any term grouping James Blunt, Bob Dylan and Elliot Smith together has outgrown its initial purpose.

Despite this, we know there is a distinction. The good of ‘intensely personal’ songwriting is the kind exemplified by artists like Elliott Smith. It is where wrought performance and intimate details weave together in a way that resonates without sounding hyperemotional. Whereas the bad comes on like a new acquaintance giving away too much, too soon; it is overwrought and unsubtle in its intentions to pull on the listener’s heartstrings. When exposed, there is little worse.

On Conor Oberst’s self-titled record there are elements of both the good and the bad, and try as he might, Conor cannot escape his fate as a personal songwriter. Just like Cassadaga could not disguise its simple structures under layers of instrumentation, this album cannot fake that it’s just a lazy Sunday jam session. Despite the album’s obvious travelling and transient themes – the album was recorded in Tepoztlán, Morelos, Mexico and much of its lyrical content is based on remote locations – the album’s production and feel seem compromised.

While pre-release descriptions of this record vary between complimentary comparisons to The Basement Tapes, the loosely recorded collaboration between Bob Dylan and The Band, and criticisms of it as being simply a continuation of Bright Eyes’ measured records past, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. When Oberst decides to open up and embrace the small band setting, the results are among the album’s best with the rollicking ‘I Don’t Want to Die (in a Hospital)’ and the carefree opener ‘Sausalito’ being true highlights.

When hearing these tracks it is difficult to not wish that Oberst hadn’t simply abandoned the balladry and deliver something more visceral. Yet it is clear that this is not where his true talent lies. The album’s next best moments, the jilting, piano-led balladry of ‘Danny Callahan’, a song detailing a boy’s struggles with cancer, and the moody folk of ‘Lenders in the Temple’ are classic Bright Eyes material and unsurprisingly are among the most successful on Conor Oberst.

It is after these initial songs where the album comes unstuck. Unable to sustain the momentum of ‘Sausalito’ and the ‘I Don’t Want to Die (in a hospital)’ and possibly, and justifiably enough considering it is a solo record, unwilling to stack the album with material more akin to Bright Eyes, the album misses its mark with mediocre, mid-tempo tracks. Songs such as ‘Moab’ and ‘Souled Out!!!’ reflect this, incapable of capturing the energy they so clearly seek and the album is forced to finish safely with ‘Milk Thistle’, a song that could be a Cassadaga B-side.

Particularly early on in his career, Oberst was likened to Dylan. And while this comparison is about as useful as labelling someone a singer-songwriter, there is a quality that is quintessentially Dylan about this record. It’s not that it’s largely a travelling record; it’s not its stripped back, narrative nature, or that it seeks that hard to capture live band feel. It’s more linked to Oberst as a continually developing artist, one who delivers the occasional outstanding record, with the odd detour in-between. And while we all rave about an artist’s classic, their Highway 61’s and Blonde on Blonde’s, Oberst, much like Dylan before him, is developing a substantial body of work that is best not singularised. While this solo outing is undoubtedly not Oberst’s best work, it has its gems and a rightful place in the Conor Oberst collection.