For all those who don't get their nightly fill of Entertainment Tonight, let me recount the story of Miami native and fast food enthusiast Tamien Bain. A self-described "up-and-coming" rapper, Bain penned a Big Mac chant (a la "two all beef patties…") and was one of five finalists contending to replace the sandwich's original jingle by way of an online 40th anniversary contest. Here's the rub: Bain held up a McDonald's when he was 14.
God bless America.
What does this obscure anecdote have to do with Conor Oberst? To be honest, not a whole lot, but it does demonstrate that this is still a land of second chances.
And so Mr. Bright Eyes, one-time boy wonder turned emo outcast, is in the right place. Shelving monikers, Oberst's self-titled album, "Conor Oberst," also strips away the clutter that weighed down previous works.
The electronics, the cheesy monologue interludes, the pseudo-philosophical rambling - they're all gone.
Twelve raw, disarming songs remain. With acoustic guitars, tap-tap percussion and saloon piano accompanying his quavering inflections, the Heartland hero once again showcases the kind of introspective folk prowess that prematurely anointed him heir to the Dylan throne.
Even the political slant and anti-war campaigning have vanished. And while this is most likely a temporary development - Oberst awash in a euphoric rush of "change we can believe in" - it is one that frees gentle ebb and flow numbers like "Cape Canaveral" and "Milk Thistle" from burdensome sermonizing duties.
While "Lenders in the Temple" and "Danny Callahan" tap into intoxicating, world-weary impressionism evocative of Neil Young's "Rust Never Sleeps," one of the record's most striking (and poorly titled) tracks, "Souled Out!!!" ironically boasts an electric workout, riff and all.
The cut's noisy backdrop perfectly fits the frenzied manner in which Oberst considers the prospect of redemption via the gates of heaven. Sounds a lot like Bain: different golden arches but same principle.
