I didn't only start this post purely to link you to more of me - I intended only to post this awesome video. I found this album for £3 in the HMV sale in Oxford today. Pretty cool.
Showing posts with label conor oberst. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conor oberst. Show all posts
Friday, 26 October 2012
More Conor Oberst
Just an update - I am now writing for the music section of the Oxford Student newspaper, so if you ever manage to get your hands on a copy, or fancy clicking here, you can see me in 'print'! It's almost certainly irrelevant to you because you've probably happened across this page by unfortunate accident... however, the topic's quite fun: are music awards still relevant? Do music awards have any legitimate gravity in the indie and rock world? Hear me thrash my editor at the link above. Plug over.
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Desaparecidos are back!
10 years ago, Conor Oberst and pals formed a band called Desaparecidos for one passionate, political album. They then gracefully retired into their respective projects, Oberst having said all he had to say at the time about the ridiculousness of fashion, destructive 'progress', materialism and the lie of the American dream. Oberst has always been fairly political, standing up for the rights of Mexicans in the southern states recently, and publicly supporting Obama in the last election.
Now, the band affectionately termed Desa are back, because let's face it, things haven't got much better. New track 'MariKKKopa' was inspired by the comments of Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who recently said it was 'an honour' to be compared to the KKK because it 'means you're doing something'. I have to say, if anything were to inspire me to get a political band together, ridiculous comments like that in my home nation would definitely help. The song, below, is a return to form - straight back in with the angry vocals, speaking through the voice of an all-American racist.
They've also released another track, 'Backsell', which has more ambiguous lyrics but seems to be about the shallowness and cruelty of the fame industries in the US. It's a great reinvigoration - good political music is quite difficult to find at the moment; there's been no great political musical movement in a while. Indie folk mostly wants to tell us about itself, pop wants to tell us about its lovers, rap wants to tell us about its sex life, emo and post-punk want to tell us about their break-ups and kick-ass parties, and screamo... who the Hell knows what that wants to tell us? Hearing new and revived bands making a stand will always be heart-warming to anyone with a revolutionary bone in them.
Thursday, 12 January 2012
Lyrics
I probably don't value lyrics enough on this blog. I love good lyrics - they're poetry with the additional feature of having melody, harmony and rhythm to make them carry extra weight and meaning. I like a lot of instrumental music too, but there's something about a good lyric set to a fitting melody that adds an emotional charge; I don't think lyrics are valued enough generally, in fact.
First, something sombre which I keep returning to.
That's the first half of the song. If you've just read those and feel incredulous, I urge you to listen to the song to see how perfect the words are to describe his feeling. Those first lines - "I thought that I was full of such hope and light, and such love" are perfected by their phrasing: he pauses after I, and of, and light, and love - you find yourself thinking of this man, this man the singer thought he was, an optimistic and 'light' man, light so heavy with positive connotations, love the garnish on this wonderful image. But then the 'but' comes. And at first it doesn't make sense. Why does writing his words and singing his songs jeopardise his great character?
The best thing about the song is that he doesn't tell you why. There's just this 'you', this person he broke promises for, abandoned plans for, but we never find out why. I assume total sacrifice, an image barely between the lines, and rejection, but it's left to you to pull your own experience into it, interpret the ambiguities.
My favourite words though are these:
They cut through me every time, partly because the song builds up here, starts to take you into serious emotion with the dynamics and Jamie Lenman's unforgettable voice. This man that the singer describes was someone who could 'create like it was stealing' (great concept anyway), making art so easily, the epitome of youth, who had a 'soul that burned for beauty'. The word 'soul' always means a lot - sometimes it's clichéd - but here I know what he means. That feeling you get when you see something awe-inspiring - when you wake up in a top-floor flat and realise the whole world's out there, when you see someone you love waiting for you before they see you, then catch the recognition in their smile - that's a soul burning for beauty. It desires it, it is damaged and brought to life by it. And this fucker has taken that away from him. The line 'who gives a shit?' makes me hurt every time, because it's so nonchalant, yet so angry. And it doesn't rhyme, so as Lit teachers would say, your attention is drawn to it - he doesn't even care about making the lines flow.
But then it all softens up. "I can't breathe this atmosphere; can't wait till I get out of here." It's over. There's misery, not anger, and then that builds into a climax of perfectly played post-hardcore, ended with 'Cause I have wasted year after year, and smile I may, but it's insincere, my dear', ended with an endearment which is both acerbic and loving. Every breath and yell is conflicted, and the music echoes that and reinforces it perfectly. Good lyrics are like good poetry, but expressive even without analysis, because of the juxtaposition between each word and its backing, or the primal support the music gives to its meaning.
Some of the best lyrics in my music collection are Conor Oberst's, but he's a thirty-year old singer from Omaha, Nebraska who grew up Catholic and then gravitated into mysticism, so the level on which I connect to the sentiments in his tracks is often not the same as with Reuben. I recognise the sentiments and think they're beautifully expressed, but I don't necessarily feel them. (He also goes heavy on the sympathy-inducing stuff, which my British restraint finds slightly uncomfortable.)Still, I smile every time I hear -
and the lyrics to 'Arienette' or 'From a Balance Beam'. In fact, the songs with good lyrics in his back catalogue are hard to choose, because they'd all be revelatory for someone, however navel-gazing they are.
So what makes good lyrics? Well, I think they're less subjective than good music as a whole; when Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys does his tongue-twisting and Dylan comes in with a nice bit of bathos, I think it's hard to deny some mastery even if you don't like it. And when Client sing:
I think it'd be hard to deny those lyrics are pretty horrific. Then again, like with poetry, you have to relate to them. For me, I think what primarily makes a good lyric is its observational astuteness (when you think, "Christ that's a real feeling" or "That highlights something I can understand/have experienced") and originality, at least of expression, and how the words are set to the music. That's why I think I like lo-fi so much, because they haven't tampered with the raw emotion of the voice too much. It's also why I dislike it when people never write their own songs - how can they profess to have made an album if they're singing someone else's sentiments? And often those same groups' music was written by someone trying to pen a hit, so there aren't even feelings there initially. What little is contained in the song gets lost in the mix.
When Adele sang 'Make You Feel My Love' and it got all famous a few months ago, I didn't know what to feel. I felt she did well with it, emotionally - it was a powerful rendition, and that's not something I often say about pop. But she'd missed the lyrics' nuances, or else ignored them. Dylan was an angry man. Adele sings sweetly, but inherent in that title is aggression. The verb 'make' should not be sung so softly in that context; it moves from being interpretation into what appears to be ignorance. He is suggesting he will force himself on this woman, make her love him, whatever you want to get from that - it's about as much a love song as Police's 'Every Breath You Take' is a love song. It illustrates how lyrics given music can take on a new character - and also, I suppose, not be as good standing alone.
Anyway, this has been a very long post, so I'll stop writing now. It's been a long and painful evening, not that this is one of those miserable self-examining emo blogs; this post, apologies for the length if you've got here, has served to distract me from myself.
First, something sombre which I keep returning to.
"I thought that I was full of such hope and light, and such love.
But all my words - I wrote them for you,
and all my songs - I sang them for you.
Photos of me, they all show
a staring man I don't know.
You know that I've been through... all this nonsense with you.
And all my words - I broke them for you,
and all my plans - I snapped them in two.
I could create like it was stealing
I'd love to sing how I was feeling
I had a soul that burned for beauty
but who gives a shit? I must admit,
I've lost it a little bit."
That's the first half of the song. If you've just read those and feel incredulous, I urge you to listen to the song to see how perfect the words are to describe his feeling. Those first lines - "I thought that I was full of such hope and light, and such love" are perfected by their phrasing: he pauses after I, and of, and light, and love - you find yourself thinking of this man, this man the singer thought he was, an optimistic and 'light' man, light so heavy with positive connotations, love the garnish on this wonderful image. But then the 'but' comes. And at first it doesn't make sense. Why does writing his words and singing his songs jeopardise his great character?
The best thing about the song is that he doesn't tell you why. There's just this 'you', this person he broke promises for, abandoned plans for, but we never find out why. I assume total sacrifice, an image barely between the lines, and rejection, but it's left to you to pull your own experience into it, interpret the ambiguities.
My favourite words though are these:
"I could create like it was stealing
I'd love to sing how I was feeling
I had a soul that burned for beauty
but who gives a shit? I must admit,
I've lost it a little bit."
They cut through me every time, partly because the song builds up here, starts to take you into serious emotion with the dynamics and Jamie Lenman's unforgettable voice. This man that the singer describes was someone who could 'create like it was stealing' (great concept anyway), making art so easily, the epitome of youth, who had a 'soul that burned for beauty'. The word 'soul' always means a lot - sometimes it's clichéd - but here I know what he means. That feeling you get when you see something awe-inspiring - when you wake up in a top-floor flat and realise the whole world's out there, when you see someone you love waiting for you before they see you, then catch the recognition in their smile - that's a soul burning for beauty. It desires it, it is damaged and brought to life by it. And this fucker has taken that away from him. The line 'who gives a shit?' makes me hurt every time, because it's so nonchalant, yet so angry. And it doesn't rhyme, so as Lit teachers would say, your attention is drawn to it - he doesn't even care about making the lines flow.
But then it all softens up. "I can't breathe this atmosphere; can't wait till I get out of here." It's over. There's misery, not anger, and then that builds into a climax of perfectly played post-hardcore, ended with 'Cause I have wasted year after year, and smile I may, but it's insincere, my dear', ended with an endearment which is both acerbic and loving. Every breath and yell is conflicted, and the music echoes that and reinforces it perfectly. Good lyrics are like good poetry, but expressive even without analysis, because of the juxtaposition between each word and its backing, or the primal support the music gives to its meaning.
Some of the best lyrics in my music collection are Conor Oberst's, but he's a thirty-year old singer from Omaha, Nebraska who grew up Catholic and then gravitated into mysticism, so the level on which I connect to the sentiments in his tracks is often not the same as with Reuben. I recognise the sentiments and think they're beautifully expressed, but I don't necessarily feel them. (He also goes heavy on the sympathy-inducing stuff, which my British restraint finds slightly uncomfortable.)Still, I smile every time I hear -
"Now every dream gets whittled down just like every fool gets wise;
You will never reap of any seed deprived of sunlight."
and the lyrics to 'Arienette' or 'From a Balance Beam'. In fact, the songs with good lyrics in his back catalogue are hard to choose, because they'd all be revelatory for someone, however navel-gazing they are.
So what makes good lyrics? Well, I think they're less subjective than good music as a whole; when Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys does his tongue-twisting and Dylan comes in with a nice bit of bathos, I think it's hard to deny some mastery even if you don't like it. And when Client sing:
"It's everywhere
In everything
Every day I'm not promising
We don't have to be good
Or play by the rules
'Cos we're the same in the things that we do
And I love it in the morning
And I love it in the evening"
I think it'd be hard to deny those lyrics are pretty horrific. Then again, like with poetry, you have to relate to them. For me, I think what primarily makes a good lyric is its observational astuteness (when you think, "Christ that's a real feeling" or "That highlights something I can understand/have experienced") and originality, at least of expression, and how the words are set to the music. That's why I think I like lo-fi so much, because they haven't tampered with the raw emotion of the voice too much. It's also why I dislike it when people never write their own songs - how can they profess to have made an album if they're singing someone else's sentiments? And often those same groups' music was written by someone trying to pen a hit, so there aren't even feelings there initially. What little is contained in the song gets lost in the mix.
When Adele sang 'Make You Feel My Love' and it got all famous a few months ago, I didn't know what to feel. I felt she did well with it, emotionally - it was a powerful rendition, and that's not something I often say about pop. But she'd missed the lyrics' nuances, or else ignored them. Dylan was an angry man. Adele sings sweetly, but inherent in that title is aggression. The verb 'make' should not be sung so softly in that context; it moves from being interpretation into what appears to be ignorance. He is suggesting he will force himself on this woman, make her love him, whatever you want to get from that - it's about as much a love song as Police's 'Every Breath You Take' is a love song. It illustrates how lyrics given music can take on a new character - and also, I suppose, not be as good standing alone.
Anyway, this has been a very long post, so I'll stop writing now. It's been a long and painful evening, not that this is one of those miserable self-examining emo blogs; this post, apologies for the length if you've got here, has served to distract me from myself.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
The Darker Catalogue
Winter has fallen. Tonight is due to be this autumn's first night of frost in this part of England; the second blanket is on the bed, the coffee in the grinder for the morning, and it's time to put the darker catalogue onto the iPod playlist.
Whilst 'winter' does appear to be the theme of this post, it is totally coincidental that my favourite track at the moment is called 'If Winter Ends'. Damn Conor Oberst has got me again. I wish he'd stop reminding me that I love navel-gazing lo-fi, because I wasn't aware I was that much of a hipster.
(I'm not, I promise. I don't own a single piece of floral clothing, my hair's its natural colour and I've only seen Pete Doherty live one time. One time!)
Anyway, this post has the late-night intention of showing you how 'emotional' Conor can be, without implicating that I'm sitting here in a puddle of my own tears or anything, which I'm not, because that would be silly. So without further ado, here's the song:
Whilst 'winter' does appear to be the theme of this post, it is totally coincidental that my favourite track at the moment is called 'If Winter Ends'. Damn Conor Oberst has got me again. I wish he'd stop reminding me that I love navel-gazing lo-fi, because I wasn't aware I was that much of a hipster.
(I'm not, I promise. I don't own a single piece of floral clothing, my hair's its natural colour and I've only seen Pete Doherty live one time. One time!)
Anyway, this post has the late-night intention of showing you how 'emotional' Conor can be, without implicating that I'm sitting here in a puddle of my own tears or anything, which I'm not, because that would be silly. So without further ado, here's the song:
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
Bright Eyes @ HMV Institute Birmingham, 8th July 2011
Okay, it's no secret that I love Bright Eyes. Bright Eyes fans, particularly in America, have a reputation for being hipsters, for posting on forums that Conor Oberst is "sooo cute and fragile". I don't buy into the cute and fragile thing, I think it's a bit of a façade, but there's no doubt that he is a very productive, talented and versatile songwriter.
Last week I spurned the Big 4 at Sonisphere to see Bright Eyes live, on the balcony at the HMV Institute. The band were supported by Jenny and Johnny, a melodic duo who were interesting for several songs, but faded into the background pretty quickly. Bright Eyes came on and the crowd, kind of Bohemian and only sparsely dotted with obligatory drunks, instantly cheered. It was a supportive crowd - through 'Land-Locked Blues', one of the highlights of the evening, there was cheering and intensity at every relevant pause.
They played the above set, with songs from a range of his best albums. However, I've never known how to feel about the emotional content of Bright Eyes lyrics, and by the third or fourth song, I was pretty much decided that I didn't like it. Conor Oberst was a lot more extroverted than I expected, a lot less of a folky, the music heavier. I liked it, but the gentle persona in the singer's lyrics and the almost arrogant persona onstage seemed to contradict one another, and gave the package an aura of falseness.
By the end, though, I had changed my mind. It was one of the first times I've seen a band that really seem to feel their songs live. Conor's miming may be silly sometimes, but there isn't a syllable he sings on autopilot - he's very involved with his songs, and that makes the whole thing really dynamic. At the end, they played 'One For You, One For Me', not one of the best from The People's Key, but incredible live: Conor managed to preach peace and love without sounding like a nu-hippy, and when he hugged that front row, it really felt like he was hugging the whole audience. The artist/audience connection was electric.
If his onstage/offstage personality dichotomy is anything to go by, he is a good actor, but it still felt real. And that's the illusion of live music, live theatre, isn't it? You don't have to be completely honest to make your point.
Musically, they were fantastic, as I knew they would be, and the trumpet really added something, particularly in 'Lover I Don't Have To Love', which is one of my favourite songs. It added a lot of atmosphere, as if the gig needed more.
This was one of the best gigs I've been to in a while, mostly because it was intense and yet full of energy and passion. I may not be into the whole fragility thing that Conor Oberst has going, but I can see that he writes and sings in gold most of the time, and Bright Eyes is one of the best of his brilliant projects, bolstered by fantastic musicians and personalities in the rest of the band.
Last week I spurned the Big 4 at Sonisphere to see Bright Eyes live, on the balcony at the HMV Institute. The band were supported by Jenny and Johnny, a melodic duo who were interesting for several songs, but faded into the background pretty quickly. Bright Eyes came on and the crowd, kind of Bohemian and only sparsely dotted with obligatory drunks, instantly cheered. It was a supportive crowd - through 'Land-Locked Blues', one of the highlights of the evening, there was cheering and intensity at every relevant pause.
They played the above set, with songs from a range of his best albums. However, I've never known how to feel about the emotional content of Bright Eyes lyrics, and by the third or fourth song, I was pretty much decided that I didn't like it. Conor Oberst was a lot more extroverted than I expected, a lot less of a folky, the music heavier. I liked it, but the gentle persona in the singer's lyrics and the almost arrogant persona onstage seemed to contradict one another, and gave the package an aura of falseness.
By the end, though, I had changed my mind. It was one of the first times I've seen a band that really seem to feel their songs live. Conor's miming may be silly sometimes, but there isn't a syllable he sings on autopilot - he's very involved with his songs, and that makes the whole thing really dynamic. At the end, they played 'One For You, One For Me', not one of the best from The People's Key, but incredible live: Conor managed to preach peace and love without sounding like a nu-hippy, and when he hugged that front row, it really felt like he was hugging the whole audience. The artist/audience connection was electric.
If his onstage/offstage personality dichotomy is anything to go by, he is a good actor, but it still felt real. And that's the illusion of live music, live theatre, isn't it? You don't have to be completely honest to make your point.
Musically, they were fantastic, as I knew they would be, and the trumpet really added something, particularly in 'Lover I Don't Have To Love', which is one of my favourite songs. It added a lot of atmosphere, as if the gig needed more.
This was one of the best gigs I've been to in a while, mostly because it was intense and yet full of energy and passion. I may not be into the whole fragility thing that Conor Oberst has going, but I can see that he writes and sings in gold most of the time, and Bright Eyes is one of the best of his brilliant projects, bolstered by fantastic musicians and personalities in the rest of the band.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Desaparecidos
If you want to know how Conor Oberst feels about politics and all sorts of other Big Questions (which let's face it, you all do...), don't look to Bright Eyes or his solo stuff, because that's mostly love and darkness, and don't look to Monsters of Folk, because that's mostly co-written. Look to Desaparecidos - ten years old now, but recently reformed for a one off show, so I understand. Even their name means 'people who have been disappeared', simply - victims of politically motivated imprisonment or murder.
Oberst is quite versatile, it seems: he's done stuff that others have called 'emo', as well as folk, soul, rock. I'd call Desaparecidos rather raucous punk. Have a video.
Oberst is quite versatile, it seems: he's done stuff that others have called 'emo', as well as folk, soul, rock. I'd call Desaparecidos rather raucous punk. Have a video.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
New Bright Eyes album
Whilst I agree with The 405 that the new Bright Eyes album, The People's Key, isn't an instant classic, I disagree with the rest of the review - the lyrics are amazing, and I like the juxtapositioning of their profundity against, essentially, indie pop music. I think it makes depth more palatable - especially if dirges are the usual backdrops for lyrical darkness or intensity.
My favourite track by a mile is 'Approximate Sunlight', at the moment. It's minimalist, interjections of sound and a metronome-beat ticking holding the background together, but the lyrics the masterpiece. It's a social comment, an introspective poem, a song about disillusion and the worn-out incessance of time. I really think Conor Oberst does the meaningful, slow tracks better than ever before these days (listen to Cassadaga's 'Lime Tree' for confirmation, although Fevers and Mirrors still rules OK with 'Arienette'.)
My favourite track by a mile is 'Approximate Sunlight', at the moment. It's minimalist, interjections of sound and a metronome-beat ticking holding the background together, but the lyrics the masterpiece. It's a social comment, an introspective poem, a song about disillusion and the worn-out incessance of time. I really think Conor Oberst does the meaningful, slow tracks better than ever before these days (listen to Cassadaga's 'Lime Tree' for confirmation, although Fevers and Mirrors still rules OK with 'Arienette'.)
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Getting into Bright Eyes
Few artists have music so deeply engrained into their being that they can live their whole lives without being lost for chords. Bright Eyes certainly seems that way, putting out music since he was 13, and still going now, almost 17 years later. His music has ranged from bluesy American folk to hardcore punk-rock, but no matter what he was playing, he never let his guitar gather dust.
I took 2007's Cassadaga out of the library a few months ago and never really got into it. On it was the brilliant 'Hot Knives', and a few other decent tracks, but it was a bit too obvious, polished. Only on listening to 2002 album Lifted or the Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground have I realised that polish was not all Conor Oberst had to offer.
I'm not a clued-up fan. Ask any one of his thousands of obsessives and you could argue over which is his best project, album, song, lyric. All I know is that 'Lover I Don't Have to Love' took me by the heart the moment I heard it, and the whole albums genuine, open lyrics and sketchy but honest atmosphere are definitely an example of how good Bright Eyes can be. I'll be trying to become that clued-up fan over the next few months, I think.
I took 2007's Cassadaga out of the library a few months ago and never really got into it. On it was the brilliant 'Hot Knives', and a few other decent tracks, but it was a bit too obvious, polished. Only on listening to 2002 album Lifted or the Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground have I realised that polish was not all Conor Oberst had to offer.
I'm not a clued-up fan. Ask any one of his thousands of obsessives and you could argue over which is his best project, album, song, lyric. All I know is that 'Lover I Don't Have to Love' took me by the heart the moment I heard it, and the whole albums genuine, open lyrics and sketchy but honest atmosphere are definitely an example of how good Bright Eyes can be. I'll be trying to become that clued-up fan over the next few months, I think.
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