31 October 2006
tell your friends...
Words by Hannah Clemens//Illustration by Erica Parrott
There is nothing I can say about Conor Oberst or his music that hasn’t been said before. As I prepare to write a review of his new release, Noise Floor, I can’t help but second guess my every sentence, knowing full well that the same sentiments have already been expressed on Pitchfork or in Spin or a few dozen other places. But such is the danger inherent in writing about Bright Eyes. There are those who say pretension hovers around Oberst like a cloud, and it could be argued that Noise Floor is the strongest evidence yet of that. Sixteen songs, not a best-of collection or even an anthology of B-sides, but rather a disc’s worth of tracks whose original release forms are out of print, early demos, and a few that have never seen the light of day. As you may expect, a bunch of disparate songs recorded haphazardly over a period of seven years does not add up to a cohesive album. After one listen it’s clear that some attempt was made to put these tracks in an order that suggests deliberation, but to no avail. The opener, “Mirrors and Fevers,” fades from crowd noise and static with random bits of singing into a shaky a capella bit that bears more resemblance to very slow slam poetry than a melody. But of course, no one listens to Oberst because he can sing. The contrast between “Mirrors and Fevers” and the second track, “I Will Be Grateful For This Day,” sums up the way Noise Floor alternates between sparse, ultimately uninteresting tracks and glittering masterpieces. The trend continues throughout the album, but the hit-or-miss nature is exactly what a collection like this is supposed to be. Some will listen, entranced, to “Mirrors and Fevers,” “Drunk Kid Catholic,” and “Happy Birthday To Me (Feb. 15)” while others will only find a track or two that meet their needs. Oberst has never tried to be all things to all people, but there is undoubtedly something for just about everything on this album.
commenting closed for this article