Cassadaga - Bright Eyes

Cassadaga

Bright Eyes
Saddle Creek Records.

SCQ Rating: 78%

“When putting together this collection we were first worried we wouldn’t have a cumbersome enough intro to begin the record (a tradition we started to ward off casual listeners).” – Conor Oberst, as written in the liner notes to the Noise Floor compilation.

After the breakthrough that was Lifted, the Dylan comparisons, the celebrated double release which saw I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn celebrated in separate and similar circles, plus extensive tours that proved Mr. Oberst the mature songwriter many of us watched grow from his teenage years, the hype for Cassadaga was far-reaching. In no small part Noise Floor aided in keeping the Bright Eyes buildup teeming, but although many viewed it as a decent stop-gap/cash-in release, the compilation appears to have been the epitaph for Oberst’s first chapter.

As the above quote boasts, Oberst puts his money where his mouth is on Cassadaga opener ‘Clairaudients (Kill or Be Killed)’; a good song inflated by wayward strings and a recorded psychic (Cassadaga is a town in Florida renowned for its heavy psychic presence). However Oberst’s comment applied fittingly for his earlier releases, which divided audiences with his lo-fi recordings and raw, unruly voice; here, though, ‘Clairaudients’ is the red-herring in a record otherwise perfect for those ‘casual listeners’ Oberst once detracted.

In one regard, the stream-lined production of Cassadaga feels like a logical progression in the same way the two previous Bright Eyes albums felt considerably more polished than his earlier work. Yet these songs are slick in a way that nearly feels contradictory to the intimacy that Bright Eyes once demanded, as most are fortified by organ, full-band, or full-orchestra. Luckily, more often that not, these bolder (and in many ways, more traditional) arrangements work; ‘Hot Knives’ is a song written to be performed with 9+ people and it’s so strong because Oberst took the time to get it right. Conversely, ‘Lime Tree’ is musically all-Oberst, and unlike much of the lyrical content’s strong political slants, deals with another personal issue for fans to gossip over (“Does that line mean she had an abortion?!?”, etc.). Featuring a string section which compliments his lonely guitar much like Nick Drake’s ‘River Man’, ‘Lime Tree’ is the closest we get to old-school Bright Eyes, and it’s a stunning close to the album.

If Oberst looks capable of losing direction at all, it’s on ‘Soul Singer in a Session Band’. Never mind that the vocal melody feels too familiar to be original, it’s traditional to the point of being regressive; where other songs here can feel a tad conservative, ‘Soul Singer…’ is worrisome, as if trying to unravel the quirks and talents that make Bright Eyes unique.

The critics who wrote that this album is biting a commercial bullet are missing a crucial point: Cassadaga doesn’t only take us out of our Bright Eyes comfort zone, it takes Conor Oberst out as well. And while it lacks the pretension and intensity that we grew to love Bright Eyes for, he’s not playing solely for us. As an artist, Oberst is one of the last people I’d expect to continue writing the same woe-is-me confessionals that brought him to public consciousness; he’s in this business for longevity and the fact that he’s had a record contract since he was thirteen should’ve clued everyone in. This is another fine release worthy of admiration and repeated listens.