Alright, Conor, I Spoke Too Soon

A few weeks ago while driving with Lauren to Westgate Mall for whatever reason, I remember telling her as we weaved through the curvy entrance "I think I'm over Bright Eyes." I'm revoking my previous statement as I was wrong.

I first encounter Conor Oberst in 2000/2001 when my friend Sheli set me an mp3 of "If Winter Ends." I was feeling melodramatically shitty, as teenagers are apt to do, and it completely blew me away. The overly somber song felt like exactly what I needed to hear...and I've always sort of associated Bright Eyes with a depressing atmosphere that he doesn't deserve. Admittedly, Oberst has gone on record at declaring embarrassment for some of his previous work.

That's not to say I've shrugged his work off into one mold, but rather, just something that always positioned itself in the back of my mind.

I've found now, Bright Eyes is more like that book that you really do enjoy, but only it certain amounts when it feels right. And no, I'm not talking about simply being depressed. While sometimes, yeah, I'll admit, listening to some of his tracks is a nice little therapy when feeling down, I'm more talking about feeling quiet, introverted, and introspective.

For me, I think Bright Eyes is more like a fireside chat with that old friend that's just passing through. It's not something I necessarily do very often, but it's very rewarding when the opportunity rises.

As if this small epiphany isn't enough of an indicator, Conor's recently come through for one of these fireside chats and I realize I've somewhat neglected his recent effort. I'll likely load Casadaga back onto my iPod when I get home.