don't you tell me how i feel.


The kid is all right by Steele

People can surprise you sometimes. Take Conor Oberst, a.k.a. Bright Eyes, who I’m pretty sure has never surprised anyone in his life.  I mean, look at him. You can totally judge this book by its cover. This is one of those guys who’s witty and incredibly charming in moderation, but turns out to be so immature, self-centered and tortured-artist sensitive that he’s actually kind of an asshole, except that he’s just artsy enough that it takes you months to realize it. AM I RIGHT, LADIES?

Anyway. For years, Oberst’s jingly-jangly guitars, God-given gift of melody, folk-Americana style and intensely personal lyrics made him a darling of the indie singer-songwriter scene – until I think people started to see him as a one-trick pony and got tired of listening to him bitch and moan about his HEART and his SOUL and his PAIN. To his credit, he’s done some evolving since then, and in recent years has been making some pretty nice folk music with other bands. 

Getting finally to my point, I heard his new song on the radio the other day and found myself really digging it. It starts out like Oberst 101 – piano, boo-hoo vocals, yeah yeah, I’ve seen this movie before – but then, out of nowhere, it takes a sharp turn deep into the 80s! Synthesizers and power chords and everything! It actually made me turn up the volume. Which, yes, that means I was CRANKING Bright Eyes IN MY RIDE like it was 2002, BITCHES.

And let me tell you, that was not the way I envisioned my drive to work when I got up that morning.

Conor Oberst, I salute you. Thanks for doing something fun.

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