Editor's Note: I'll start off this review by mentioning that I didn't write this one. This review is brought to us by our new Portland-based contributer, Dave. Dave is, perhaps, going to be the figurehead of our Citizen Dick Western Campus. One thing's for sure, he knows him some Bright Eyes. Join us in welcoming Dave in his opening contribution. We're looking forward to hearing more from the Wild Wild West as our journey marches onward. Onto his review on the new album.
The People’s Key: A three-day guided retreat led by the dean of earnestness himself.
The People’s Key begins with a Christian neo-New Age preacherman describing a Sumerian myth of the introduction of evil to this world through the arrival of snake-like beings in chariots of fire in the Garden of Eden. The new arrivals made slaves out of the people and began trying to hybridize the locals, which, after twenty generations of trial and failure, successfully produced phase-shifting reptilian spawn who could travel to the fourth dimension. Keeping these phase shifters in balance with the non-hybridized populations allows civilization to continue.
And then the music starts. Oberst describes dichotomies and paradoxes, and noodles in traditional Christian and Eastern spiritual explanations and solaces. Unlike previous albums, there are no named characters in the songs, and few character portrayals overall. I had always enjoyed these glimpses into characters' lives as they spun through Oberst’s orbit, and missed them on “The People’s Key.”
Starting albums with spoken word, either with Oberst speaking or otherwise, is a common Bright Eyes theme. The beginning of The People’s Key reminds me of its predecessor Cassadaga's first track, “Clairaudients (Kill or Be Killed),” in which we listen in on a phone call with a New Age advisor directing the listener, or Oberst, to embark on a trip throughout the southwestern US to find vortexes and the center of energy. To get rid of the “old feeling, the old way of thinking.” She implores us/him to embrace transformation. The album feels like an attempt to reconcile many of the "shamanic space/time/religion reality fuck-withs" Conor has thrown at his audience throughout the course of Bright Eyes. I think this is why the album is frayed musically and thematically. It feels like it's time for something new, where Oberst can refocus in a specific direction free of history.
The “Ladder Song” is the most successful attempt at synopsizing Bright Eyes' orientation throughout the eight studio album traverse. Repeated invocations of “you are not alone” reach out and speak back in time to the teenage Oberst, who reached as far outside of Oklahoma as he could. The lyric from the penultimate song is the most comforting intention I heard on the album: “I’ll know when it’s finally over, this life was a hallucination. You’re not alone in anything, you’re not alone in trying to be.”
The arrangements throughout are ambitious and largely unsuccessful. Early in Bright Eyes’ albums Oberst brought together singer/songwriter feel with lo-fi theatricality. “I’m Wide Awake, It’ Morning” achieved the optimal mix of country and indie sensibility. It had timely steel guitar and sensible accompaniment. Throughout The People’s Key there is entirely too much synth matched to steel guitar. “Jejune Stars” starts with a drum and guitar combo that would feel at home on a The Sword track. Much of the album sounds like it was produced by an accomplished purveyor of vapid mall pop.
On the last track, the metaphysical preacherman discusses how humankind needs to achieve enlightenment to achieve peace, that we need to continue the search for compassion, love, and finally mercy. Since The People’s Key is billed as the last of the Oberst incarnation of Bright Eyes, it was hard to listen without comparing to the rest of the albums. As a long-time fan, I hoped to hear at least one track that matched the fervor of “The Calendar Hung Itself” or the earnestness of “At The Bottom of Everything” or the pain of “Poison Oak.” You won’t find anything to latch onto on this record, but for those who yammer about closure, it is in your best interest to have that last pity listen with Conor before he goes off into new projects. In the hallucinated interview at the end of “An Attempt to Tip the Scales,” Conor talks about why he writes (to create feelings) and that, “the message is intended to be universal." Early Bright Eyes did this through intimate confessional songs. Later day Bright Eyes veered into delivering the message through explorations of faith, fidelity, loyalty and acceptance that were less personal and, ultimately, less successful. I, more deeply than anything, wanted a wake for Padraic, and something from the last album to cherish. Alas, Conor decided that dead brothers should stay in the ground.
Welcome, Slutty Dave. Excellent review!
this album seems boring like 9th grade history class. didn’t like it then and certainly won’t now. thanks for saving me $15.