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Finding his place

With the simultaneous release of two very different albums, Conor Oberst appears ready to accept the success predicted for him years ago.

By BRIAN ORLOFF
Published February 3, 2005

	[Publicity photo]
	On his success, Conor Oberst says, “. . . it’s kind of sad. It separates you from other people.”
	Behind Bright Eyes If you're asking yourself who is this Bright Eyes guy, and why is he all over the pages of Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly and Spin this month, don't fret. Here's a timeline chronicling the sudden blast of once-upon-a-time "shy" guy Conor Oberst into pop culture.

Conor Oberst is straddling the indie rock and mainstream music worlds in his low-rise jeans, and he doesn't look too happy about it.

Then again, Oberst, 24, who records under the name Bright Eyes, seems unable to display pleasure. Just look at him, all penetrating stares and miserable moues.

That gloomy mug has been everywhere lately, staring out from the covers of music magazines declaring his genius. "King of Indie Rock" trumpets Rolling Stone. Then there was the not-so-indie mention of his music on nighttime soap The O.C.; the hordes of fans who worship him at soldout concerts (Mr. Oberst and his band drop into Tampa Theatre on Friday night); and the critical attention.

With the audacious release of two albums last week - the folksy I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning and the electric/indie-rock delight Digital Ash in a Digital Urn - it's time for Oberst to accept his celebrity. His music might mystify listeners, but one thing is certain: Once you've heard it, you won't forget it.

So what is it about Oberst that appeals to the masses? His music is certainly an acquired taste. And his personality is not exactly sparkling. His lyrics paint him as perpetually tortured, and in interviews he comes off as petulant. Or is it blase? Or ever so slightly lost?

Asked about his growing success, he had this to say in an interview with the Boston Globe: "You ask for it by performing and marketing yourself, so I can't sit here and complain and say I didn't help it happen.

"But it's kind of sad. It separates you from other people. And unless you take active steps to try to feel connected to people, you can get alienated pretty quick."

Although he now lives in New York, Oberst hails from the startlingly hip town of Omaha, Neb. Like Seattle in the early '90s heyday of grunge, Omaha is where it's at for indie bands.

The city, better known for more agricultural exports, has cultivated a fleet of celebrated bands thanks to homegrown label Saddle Creek. Cursive, the Saddle Creek-by-way-of-L.A.-band Rilo Kiley, and electro-dance group the Faint have all recorded for the label. In turn, they have joined an ever-expanding roster of Oberst collaborators and musical partners.

Bright Eyes is more than a moniker. It's a band. Oberst records and performs with a rotating lineup. He fills his urban folk songs with orchestral flourishes - from flugelhorns to choirs of handclaps - and enlists a talented, diverse bunch to help out.

Though Oberst has been recording since 13, under a variety of names and projects, critics really took notice with his fourth album, 2002's Lifted or The Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground. The title only hints at some of the lumbering, but lush, compositions that earned him plaudits like "the best songwriter of his generation" and "a young Bob Dylan." By the way, his music's nothing like Dylan's, so it must be the Midwestern troubadour connection.

Like his fragile-looking frame, Oberst's compositions, no matter how richly arranged and ornamented, seem brittle, as if they might fall to pieces under the weight of his raw confessions. His voice veers from forceful to nervy, at times transforming from wail to whisper.

In pop music jargon, Oberst's music might best be filed under emo, the nascent genre that has captured the hearts and tear ducts of mostly teenage fans who long for sincerity. Oberst's detractors - and he has plenty - say his songs are precious and overly confessional. A sample, from Waste of Paint on the CD Lifted: "As I hide behind these books I read, While scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me."

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning reins in the wordiness of Lifted and focuses things, thanks to more twangy arrangements. Oberst is maturing into his sound, surer of his voice and views. Yes, there are still cragged outbursts (it wouldn't be a Bright Eyes disc without them), but songs such as the subdued Lua, an elegy for the inevitable falling out of love, succeed with their refined simplicity. Country singer Emmylou Harris adds her luminous voice to several songs, including the bewitching Landlocked Blues:

"And the world's got me dizzy again;

You think after 22 years I'd be used to the spin.

And it only feels worse when I stay in one place,

So I'm always pacing around or walking away.

I keep drinking the ink from my pen,

And I'm balancing history books up on my head,

But it all boils down to one quotable phrase:

"If you love something, give it away.' "

Oberst has great taste in collaborators, and that surely doesn't hurt his appeal.

On Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, Oberst turns away from the folk singer image as he pairs with hip rock musicians, including the Yeah Yeah Yeah's guitarist Nick Zimmer. Lyrically, it's not much different from I'm Wide Awake, but the electric-pulse and innovative grooves temper the torment a bit.

The past year found Oberst getting political, and you can hear his fury in Road to Joy, with interpolated bits of Beethoven.

He took the stage with R.E.M. and Bruce Springsteen on last fall's Vote For Change tour, serving as his generation's voice of dissent. Digital Ash, with its fractured sound, has the best examples of these converging perspectives.

He's playing with the big dogs, and is understandably curious about finding wider audiences, but Oberst is loyal to his hometown, refusing the advances of major labels. He might not be smiling about it, but he'll be fascinating to watch.

"I can see what's ahead of me," he told the Globe, on the phone from Omaha, where a seven-piece version of Bright Eyes opened his national tour. "And I guess I'm not afraid of it anymore."

-- Bright Eyes performs with Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter and Neva Dinova, 8 p.m. Friday at Tampa Theatre, 711 Franklin St., Tampa. $21-$23. (727) 898-2100 or (813) 287-8844.

[Last modified February 2, 2005, 13:46:27]