The prolific folk rocker goes solo on his new album

“If you walk away, I’ll walk away,” began a voice singing, hand-in-hand with sparse acoustic plucking. As the song known as “Landlocked Blues” amassed with Conor Oberst’s dynamic vocal cadence and beautiful puzzle-piece lyrics joined by guest Emmylou Harris harmonizing in trembling splendor, I was struck. That anthem track off I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning was an ideal introduction to the music of the band Bright Eyes. Raw yet arresting. Gut-clenching. Somehow consoling in its lonesome discontent.

Flash forward to present day. I can just hear the college kids away on vacation gasping in disappointment upon realizing they’ll be missing this week’s visit by the indie folk champion behind the much lauded Bright Eyes phenom. Minus that famous moniker, singer/songwriter Conor Oberst is touring under his own name and backed by his new Mystic Valley Band, which was assembled during his reprieve from New York City life while recording in Tepoztlán, Mexico earlier this year—two months that resulted in a self-titled album. And, after finding myself playing said album incessantly since it first landed on my desk, I can attest it resonates with the striking folk formula he employed for I’m Wide Awake.    

Whereas last year’s Cassadaga was an elaborate production, the newest release finds Oberst resuming a more understated musical approach. Nomadic lyrical strolls that always get you to some potent core are Oberst’s forte. There isn’t much need for extravagance. His first officially solo effort in 13 years, Conor Oberst still delivers somber themes but with a seemingly sweet nod to it all. He seems happier, still addressing his usual subjects of things daunting—death, loneliness, drifting—but with more acceptance. Overt political decrees are also absent this time around, despite his high profile anti-Bush, pro-Obama stance. Playful quips and spontaneous improv in the studio (including occasional Spanish) lighten up the album, which begins and ends in lolling acoustic fashion.

The elegiac opener “Cape Canaveral” sings, “I watched your face die backwards, little baby in my memory/You told me victory is sweet even deep in the cheap seats.” The album is sentimental for something lost, but a sense of joy and surrender pervades despite the ever-present theme of death. Oberst is darkest on the lamenting “Lenders In The Temple,” but more often seems lighthearted, with upbeat rants dressed in distortion and catchy choruses on several lively numbers. “I Don’t Want To Die (In The Hospital)” is a speedy, piano-intense declaration that’s more of a fun-loving sing-along, while “Souled Out!!!” culminates into an electric, effects-ridden rock chorus that shouts, “You won’t be gettin’ in/It’s all souled out in heaven!” The noteworthy Tom Petty-esque “Moab” resolves in alt-country fashion, “There’s nothing that the road cannot heal.” And finally, the poignant “Milk Thistle” brings the album full circle in tone and theme with a solo acoustic collapse in which mild vocals and mellow fingerpicking wean the listener off with the quiet admission, “I’m nowhere bound, just going up and down.”

All in all, Oberst again makes outstanding folk rock poetry to accompany the soul-searching vagabond the same way the Beats wrote books—bus rides to nowhere included. Señor Bright Eyes is still roaming, but it’s as if he’s more at peace, and, well, more comfortable staking claim to his real name. Seems the Mexican vacation served him well.  

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