BRIGHT EYES: DIGITAL ASH IN A DIGITAL URN (2005)
1) Time Code; 2) Gold Mine
Gutted; 3) Arc Of Time (Time Code); 4) Down In A Rabbit Hole; 5) Take It Easy
(Love Nothing); 6) Hit The Switch; 7) I Believe In Symmetry; 8) Devil In The
Details; 9) Ship In A Bottle; 10) Light Pollution; 11) Theme From Piñata; 12)
Easy/Lucky/Free.
Of the two studio albums released simultaneously,
Digital Ash seems to have received
more critical flack and a little less fan respect, mainly because the word Digital in the title immediately
focuses our attention on Conor's extensive use of electronics. I mean — yeah,
what the hell, this is Bright Eyes and their frosty «Omaha sound», where the
heck do synthesizers and programmed beats belong in this? And if this guy does
so much to become the «icon of sincerity» in modern indie music, how does that
agree with processing your music through a computer?
But that's all theory, and on practice, once
you get past the nearly-instrumental intro of ʽTime Codeʼ, the use of
electronics on this album is neither particularly annoying nor detracting from
the «essence» of Bright Eyes. One thing Oberst is never very much interested in
is making music, and that accounts
for his approach to the electronic business as well. The programmed beats will
hardly make Richard D. James lose much sleep, and the atmosphere-producing
synthesizers produce barely enough atmosphere for us to breathe it in, let
alone any perspectives of intoxication.
Besides, most of the melodies remain in the
usual neo-folk ballpark. No matter how many drum machine overlays there may be
on ʽArc Of Timeʼ and how strongly the digital effects are pressed on its
acoustic guitars, there is no force in the universe that could prevent me from
wanting to finish off the lines "...and they twist like sheets, till you
fall asleep, and they finally unwind" with "...as we gaze upon the
chimes of freedom flashing". You know what I mean: you can take a horse to
the water, but you cannot make him bend a circuit.
On the other hand, bringing in electronics
helps Oberst at least modestly expand his means and make a record more
consistently listenable and less consistently predictable than things used to
be. ʽGold Mine Guttedʼ is almost a good song — at least it has a simple,
melancholic keyboard hook upon which Oberst's latest confessional can be appropriately
hung. ʽDown In A Rabbit Holeʼ creates a wall of sound from various electronics
and an entire string quartet. ʽTake It Easyʼ has a very pretty coda that joins
martial rhythms with kiddie-magic electronic chimes. And so on and on — we are
basically back to the complexity level of Fevers
And Mirrors, and some of the bits and pieces here may even be more
memorable.
As for the «attitudes» of particular songs, my
brain exercises the old golden rule: the more suffering there is in an Oberst
song, the more suffering is inflicted on the brain. Namely, that particular
part of Oberst that is responsible for ʽHit The Switchʼ and ʽDevil In The
Detailsʼ, should be dragged out into the street and shot: lines like
"sometimes I pray I don't die, I'm a goddamn hypocrite", sung in that particular manner, make me want to
cart him off at least as far as Somali or something like that. But less
straightforward stuff like ʽShip In A Bottleʼ shows that he is just as capable
of confessionalism without bad-actor overplay — and he is also capable of
smarter-than-average social preaching on tunes like ʽLight Pollutionʼ.
Actually, somewhere around mid-album the
electronic beats and loops almost disappear, and by the time we get to the end,
the digital soldiers have mostly been assimilated by traditionally oriented
guys, reduced to performing valuable background services. The best is saved for
last: ʽEasy / Lucky / Freeʼ is an almost seductive combo of rhythmic loops,
dreamy slide guitars à la Beach
House, and well-arranged harmonies. As an anthemic coda, it has none of the
questionable kitsch of ʽRoad To Joyʼ, never goes over the top, and delivers its
condemnation of society's sins in an almost, dare I say it, mature kind of way.
Still, it is beyond my powers to clearly state
that Digital Ash is a «thumbs up» sort
of album. As with Fevers And Mirrors,
I'd rather stay neutral about it, because, on the general scale of things,
little has changed. Oberst's lyrics, bar a few blatant exceptions, get more
complex and tempting for intellectual analysis, but they were never awful to
begin with. His vocals here only make me want to throttle him a few times, but
even when they don't, he still whines his way through without the slightest
touch of humor and irony — and, for that matter, why the hell is he handling
all the lead vocal duties himself again? And the melodies, for the most part,
still suck: use of electronics and this subtle gradual transition from
«all-out digital» to «mostly analog» helps cope with that fact, but does not
eliminate it.
Still, if faced with the necessity of choice, I
would definitely take Digital Ash
over Wide Awake, because I am afraid
of Bright Eyes fans, and I know that for most of them, it is Oberst's bleeding
hearted sincerity that serves as the major vitamin, so the more layers of sound
this guy can use to muff and choke that sincerity, the more beats and loops he
weaves into that bandage that causes the heart to bleed internally rather than
externally, the safer I am. What sort of stupid jerk ever said that sincerity
was important in music, anyway? Oh, that's right, I did. But that was before I got acquainted with the Bright
Eyes catalog, so don't be too hard on me.
I knew you'd at least like this Bright Eyes album more than his early work. And modest nonchalance is definitely preferable in my eyes to outright distaste. :)
ReplyDelete"And we dozed through the chimes of BOREDOM shuffling." Love it. The more you hate on this kid, the more I wanna feel the pain, just so that I can taste the venom. Only one thing would try make the suffering perfect: Has he made a remix album?
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