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The fact that the music does feel relaxed, even when it bears his classicist affectations, does make Conor Oberst markedly different than the music of Bright Eyes, and makes it a worthwhile project--even if it proves to be a detour instead of a new beginning.
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By its very nature this is a more cohesive work than "Cassadaga," and a fine, true one at that: evocative, sporadically inspired and resoundingly enjoyable, repeat plays paying dividends.
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A definite sense of fun permeates Conor Oberst, with the singer allowing himself to indulge a few whimsical idea's.
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So, the jury is still out on Conor Oberst. His loyal fans will be slightly puzzled by the easy going roll of the music but rewarded by several choice lyrical nuggets, while his critics will point out that Dylan had already released Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde before recording John Wesley Harding.
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There’s a sense of playfulness on I Don’t Wanna Die (In The Hospital) and NYC – Gone, Gone that’s missing from Cassadaga, and enough catchiness to keep radio stations happy (even if said track happens to be an ominous ode to a dying boy), but it’s on the achingly simplest of songs where Oberst’s familiar splenetic growl returns at last.
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If hippie leanings and a penchant for image-dense, nature-inspired poesy make Oberst a kindred spirit to Devendra Banhart and Joanna Newsom, he can also be hard-nosed.
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Largely, this is the introspective folk rock of Bright Eyes, though there's some welcome shift away from autobiography.
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Lyrically, however, the album is just another soul-searching journey, and while he may be getting too old to call a “boy genius”, he's not lost any of his wistful intelligence.
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Although Oberst's reedy voice may occasionally shine, this album needs a bang rather than a whimper.
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Under The RadarIn terms of recording, speeding up, and trimming down he has produced one of his most intimate and exhilarating albums to date. [Summer 2008]
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It’s not the definitive work the self-titling might suggest but it’s sure as hell worthy of the name.
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Conor Oberst doesn't sound much different from any of Bright Eyes' acoustic material, except that it is lacking in the bare honesty of his earlier albums.
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Entertainment WeeklySprawling and brawny, Conor is the least maudlin album Oberst has made. [8 Aug 2008, p.67]
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Oberst has traded in a lot of his post-adolescent trembling for a calmer, less unbridled melancholy, but Conor Oberst is still packed with disheartening realities, and Oberst refuses to temper his pessimism, even when it starts to feel heavy and contrived, more like a narrative tic than anything else.
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Ultimately, Conor Oberst is a bit of a mixed bag, an album that’s often as frustrating as it is inviting. It is, however, a step in the right direction and a sure sign that Oberst is growing as a songwriter.
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The album does an admirable job of living up to its low- key title (with spare acoustic tracks) and its situation (with loosey-goosey, classic-rock-indebted numbers).
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It's no surprise that Oberst is able to pull off this style exceptionally well, but what impresses most about the record is how its relaxed vibe--the album was recorded with the specially assembled Mystic Valley Band in just two months at a private house in Mexico--carries over into Oberst's songwriting.
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Conor Oberst (Merge) is the richest collection of songs from Conor Oberst--via Bright Eyes, Desaparecidos, whatever--in a long time.
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Oberst himself sounds enlivened by the chance to listen in and sing while he's at it.
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Here, obsessed with his own mortality, Conor isolates himself from what stirs his best writing.
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Oberst always projects a spiritual generosity unknown to most footloose troubadours who can’t commit.
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With Oberst, there is little filter; the gems and the rubbish all emerge from the same place. Oberst's talent and his unevenness are all of a kind.
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His melodies curl to drive the stories, while his lyrics illuminate the road with a sometimes dazzling light.
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It’s proof that, when he escapes from awkward, self-conscious navel-gazing, Oberst can be a songwriter of some note.
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From admittedly unsympathetic ears, it’s a fruitless mess caked with vanity and smothered by its own insular delusions of prosperity.
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While it's certainly refreshing to hear Oberst refrain from swaddling his emotionally-driven conceits in rock statesman's clothing, much of Conor Oberst seems too comfortably by-the-book to really leap off the page.
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MojoThat bravery and those haunting songs make for an album that, while not the very best Oberst has made, buttresses his growing reputation as the best songwriter working today. [Sep 2008, p.102]
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Conor Oberst's latest project has demonstrated his unmistakable ability to maintain continuity across an album while managing to quell any potential boredom before it begins to detract from the listening experience.
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It’s just an Omaha boy playing some good old country pop--for once.
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The result is a confident, tight batch of tracks that beautifully encompass a prosaic kind of ache.
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The opening and closing tracks prove that Conor Oberst is a more reflective and personal venture as both are stripped down affairs, one summoning childhood memories while the other seems to contemplate suicide.
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Altogether, it might be his most mature and immediately listenable album.
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If intended to initiate his career's second act, Oberst has an impressive start.
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This vibrato-prone romantic is the greatest melodist in contemporary mega-indie.
Awards & Rankings
User score distribution:
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Positive: 22 out of 24
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Mixed: 1 out of 24
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Negative: 1 out of 24
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Nov 17, 2011
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voodoocookieAug 15, 2008
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ChadS.Aug 11, 2008