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By BRIAN ORLOFF
Published February 4, 2005
AP/Handout photo
On his success, Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes says, “…it’s kind of sad. It separates you from other people.”
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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."
Though he 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.
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 3, 2005, 16:51:59]
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