Conor Oberst has been considered this generation's Dylan ever since the early 2000's, mostly with the large critical and commercial success of Bright Eyes' LIfted or The Story Ia in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground. A fantastic album, minimalist and yet eternally expressive, it took a lot of people like myself through their high school years and beyond. Since that album, he's tried a bit more of a straight-up country approach, he's tried a synth approach, and sounds in between the two. The People's Key is another one of those albums that doesn't choose just one, and merges a lot of his influences into one definitive album, that while flawed, is still very listenable.
The biggest problem with the album, is while his lyrics have always been provocative and thought-provoking, this time around they don't seem to actually say much at all, and meander more on unraveling thoughts and various subjects that sometimes don't always mesh as well as Oberst wants them to. Oberst disconnects into that drone that he has perfected over so many albums, where willfully moans about anything and everything. A lot of this album is has that illusory style to them, but they never really seem to mean anything. He even hands over some crucial minutes of his album to Randy Brewer, a Texas musician Oberst had met on the road. And while the man has a fine voice and speaks as if he's some sort of preacher delivering true gospel, when he's done you feel like you didn't listen to anything at all. I don't want to use the word pretentious, but this is probably as close as Oberst has ever gotten to being so.
Now you're probably thinking after all that that I don't like this album. But if I can digress, this is still a darkly moving, even if you don't come to fully understand it. "Haile Selassie" is a charging, delightful synth fuzz that reminds you of the better parts of the Digital Urn album. "One for You, One for Me" is a true moment of connectivity for Conor Oberst, where the feelings of "oneness" come together into a strong moment of clarity for the album, and the 6 minutes pass by quicker than you imagine they could. There is a unique sound to the album as a whole, a post-punk folk synth rock, if you could take all the elements and just mash them into one name. And it works, the musicianship, as always, knows when to provide a meddling mess or a low-tuned hum.
So don't be too fooled by my second paragraph. This is coming from one of Bright Eyes' biggest fans, and thus one of their biggest critics. If you've liked Digital Ash from a Digital Urn, and don't mind a little extra folk, then you'll enjoy this just the same. Hopefully the revelatory words of Conor Oberst produce a little more feeling next time around, but for the time being, it's nice to see he's still searching in the rabbit hole for that special something.
3 and 1/2 out of 5 stars
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