Sunday, May 6, 2007
SideA/SideB
Cassadaga | Bright Eyes
Saddle Creek | April 10th
Reviews by Tom Fairman & Jigantor
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Saddle Creek Records
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In this regular feature, two of our writers review the same album, providing two perspectives on the same record. After all, when it comes to music, beauty really is in the ear of the beholder.
Review by Tom Fairman
Sounds like … the love child of Neil Young and Bob Dylan with a dash of M Ward.
Conor Oberst, the mind behind Bright Eyes, is not the new Bob Dylan. Oberst has been plagued by this comparison ever since his brand of semi-political folk-rock was brought to a wider audience with 2002’s Lifted. He is, however, an extremely prolific and dedicated songwriter. And Cassadaga is another chapter in his saga following 2004’s double heavyweight I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn.
Of the divergent musical paths forged in the wake of his previous albums, Oberst seems to have pursued the Western-essence found on I’m Wide Awake. Opening ominously, Cassadaga crystallises the ills of modern society in a single sentence – “Corporate or colonial/the movement is unstoppable/like the body of the centrefold/it spreads." Four Winds follows, complete with a violin riff bizarrely reminiscent of Santa Clause is Coming to Town, which works surprisingly well.
The highlight of the album comes midway through, on Middleman - a potential rock song that has been oppressed and distilled into a suspiciously gentle acoustic piece, which works exceptionally well for Oberst. The song simmers, threatening to burst its mere musical constraints, listeners eagerly anticipating a slash of distorted guitar – or something loud - to break the tension. But this never comes, and by the conclusion, it’s not a track of wasted potential - rather, a cause to marvel at Oberst’s fine grasp of restraint and ability to weave boundless energy within every guitar chord and soft string pluck.
Oberst doesn’t always nail it - Make a Plan To Love Me takes the tempo of 2004’s single Lua, but holds none of its strength, beauty or potency. This sentiment pervades the album. Yet the mastery of Oberst’s work is that which initially appears to be mostly repetitious country ballads, with dedication, reveals a taciturn glow that refuses to be extinguised and compels you to return.
7 out of 10
Review by Jigantor
Sounds like … Paul Kelly plus Matchbox Twenty with a dash of country, minus inspiration.
I'm sorry, Reader. I really am. I tried so hard to like this album. I should have liked this album. An acoustic record with a hint of country is right up my alley. But this album did not evoke images of love, loss, heartbreak or open roads. It made me think of tax returns, essays, and whether or not I should cut my hair. That's right kids, this album is boring. Sure, all the elements are there. Count 'em. There's the swelling orchestra ('Make A Plan To Love Me'). There's the Biblical references ('Four Winds'). There's the dramatic pause before the singalong chorus ('Hot Knives'). But look – there's me falling asleep.
You see, I have a rather strange notion of what makes good music. In a nutshell, the best records have heart. Now, I'm not picky. All sorts of records have heart, from Frenzal Rhomb to Sarah McLachlan. But here, there is nothing. Just the unedifying sound of Conor Oberst trying oh so hard to be emotional. He's clearly been practising his 'vulnerable' voice, wavering and cracking throughout the album, desperately flailing, trying to catch hold of a heartstring. Keep trying son, you're miles away. And you're getting irritating.
I wrote the first draft of this review with hatred in my heart. I had nothing but scorn for Bright Eyes and anyone who liked this album. Then I discovered that Mr Music, a friend whose opinion I value highly, thought the album was 'brilliant'. So, dear Reader, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you will buy this album and not take it out of your CD player for a month. Maybe you will laugh and cry and change your life. But personally, I can't wait to finish this review so I never have to hear it again. Oh look. I just did.
3 out of 10
5 things other people have said:
See, Tom, I tried. I really did. But I didn't see restraint and control, I saw mediocrity and desperate attempts to make me care. It's not that this is a bad record, it's just that it's the sort of record my boss puts on at work.
It gave me the same feeling I get when I'm in a Toyota Camry: a feeling like I'm going to explode because I'm surrounded by such incredible boredom.
Every single person I've spoken to has liked this album, so I'm quite prepared to accept that I'm just weird. But for me, The Mammals, Great Big Sea, hell, even the Dixie Chicks, make much better and more compelling music.
- Tim (Jigantor)
oh my friend, it seems you are attempting to make an argument where there is none. For the restraint and control is reference to but one song; did you miss my comment that states the lack of "strength, beauty or potency" that pervades the album in comparison to his previous works? It seems so. My comment does not deny his strength as a songwriter - but it does not confirm this album as the essence of his potency. This album shows undeniable high points - Four Winds, If The Brakeman Turn My Way, Middleman, which exhbit the taciturn glow of his songwriting - but at the same time, there are numerous points which lack the stength.
Ah, but dear Thomas, I don't think I am. I did not miss your disclaimer at the end, but attached little weight to it given the broadly, if cautiously, positive tone of the rest of the article. After all, you lightly criticise one song, while speaking positively of three others. You finish by saying that the 'mastery' of Oberst 'compels you to return'. While clearly you are not a member of the Conor Oberst Fan Club, you equally will not be donating to my new "Campaign To Deny Conor Oberst Access To Recording Equipment" (or more catchily, CTDCOATRE).
I wouldn't regard those songs as 'undeniable high points', I would regard them as 'somewhat less obnoxious moments'. Also, and I can see this might cause confusion, my score should have been 3/10, not 6/10. The number refers to the number of points my blood pressure rises each minute of this album.
Incidentally, I very much like the quality of your writing.
CTDCOATRE... oh... that's good. I swear if you look up the term "Love/Hate Relationship" in the cliche dictionary, you invariably find a picture of Oberst. I walk a tenuous line with him, and i can see where you are coming from. At once i hate the guy (he probably couldn't get his head further up his arse at points), but then again, i love him - I'm Wide Awake - You've heard it? It's gold.
Though, as i've said before, you can't class an act on it's previous work. Cassadaga, it follows in the path of I'm Wide Awake, but it doesn't have all the magic, the crackle. I guess what sucked was that i didn't have enough of a word limit to expand on this in the review - and i admit, i got caught up, some may say smitten, with Middleman. But that song, it's, it's, just to damn good.
I guess i'm going to have to pull out the good old, debate-castrating "different strokes for different folks" line here. oh. that hurt.
Thanks for the compliment. You write a fine word yourself, and i am heartily enjoying the prospect of agreeing with you, or (even better) not, over the future tunes we'll review. do you have a.... m.y.s.p.a.c.e?
At least you didn't say 'each to their own'. 'Different strokes..' has a (slightly) more interesting air to it.
I probably never gave Wide Awake.. the attention it deserved, so I can't really comment. First (and only) impression was 'underwhelming'. That said there have been random Bright Eyes songs I've heard round the traps that have been not unpleasant. They just weren't from Cassadaga.
I like to maintain an air of pretentious superiority by spurning MySpace (I have been traumatised by too many flashing gifs and txt-speak) in favour of, ahem, LiveJournal (jigantor.livejournal.com). Which is sadly neglected and contains virtually no writing I am actually proud of. Still, perhaps this new scribbling gig will spur me to greater heights.
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