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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Bright Eyes’ ‘Down in the Weeds’ is an assured and topical effort

By Julien A. Luebbers For The Spokesman-Review

Nine years ago, Bright Eyes was as good as finished. In an interview, frontman Conor Oberst said “The People’s Key” would be the group’s final album together, and fans had little reason to believe otherwise.

But the future – as we all have come to realize – holds no certainties. A few years down the line, it would seem like the right time to call the group (consisting of Oberst, producer and multi-instrumentalist Mike Mogis and pianist Nick Walcott) back together for another go.

“Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was” is the result, a return home for the musicians and their sound. “Down in the Weeds” is, in a word, monumental. Every one of the 14 tracks is huge in some sense, whether it is scope, composition or both. It would be fair to call this album “epic” insofar as an album can be.

The album opens with “Pageturner’s Rag,” a series of conversations clipped together over a rag, calling forth a bar or restaurant. Among the snippets, one line stands out, almost as a summons to the rest of the album:

“I think about how much people need – what they need right now is to feel like there’s something to look forward to. We have to hold on. We have to hold on.” It is difficult to believe this wasn’t written in June, but then again Oberst has always been on the apocalypse train.

From the intro track, Oberst, Mogis and Walcott carry the listener into “Dance and Sing,” which introduces the album’s compositional form: a foundation of guitar, drums, keys and bass accompanied by a rotating panoply of musical instruments, a true wrangling of talents.

“Dance and Sing” features a violin section, by no means new for the band but well-orchestrated. It’s a laid-back track that drifts through the mind.

Vivid imagery has always been at the heart of Oberst’s lyrics, and “Down in the Weeds” exemplifies that trait magnificently. It puts a toe up to his best writing. Never before, though, has the arrangement of imagery been matched by the instrumentation.

The huge palette the band uses, which includes bagpipes, a choir, brass, sax and more, contributes to each song’s subtly unique mood. Despite all these instrumental developments, this album is still very Bright Eyes.

Oberst’s voice oozes languid anxiety with its harsh vibrato, and despite his age he is concerned with many of the same facets of life as he was in the past.

“Mariana Trench,” the last single to be released before the album dropped, sets itself apart from the album as a track of immense scope. Literally, the song asks “Look up at that Everest / Look down in that Mariana Trench.”

It’s concerned with perspective, that line spanning the whole surface of the earth. The song’s dense and big sound has the same effect as the lyrics – to convey the seeming insignificance of the individual.

In between Everest and the Mariana Trench, there is everything. In “Stairwell Song,” Oberst relives the memory of another, staring out into the rain. In “Tilt-a-whirl,” life is energetically described as fast-fading and lonely (though the song is accompanied).

In the aptly named “Forced Convalescence,” the kick drum and bass drive the track in a manner not unlike the moments – mundane and otherwise – which Oberst notes are inescapable parts of life.

“Forced Convalescence” feels central to the album. The vast vocals and robust foundation are Bright Eyes at their most mature. This Oberst is not the one who sang “First Day of My Life.” This Oberst is time-weathered, maybe even middle-aged.

His almost teenage anxieties are essentially the same as they were a decade ago, but they have been nuanced with time. There is a certain degree of acceptance; it is not a concession to the state of things, but an understanding of the inertia of it all, which comes only with time.

Even at its quickest, it’s most vivacious, “Down in the Weeds” retains that swaying, slow pace that Bright Eyes has mastered. When the tempo quickens, some aspect of the song is built to drag elegantly.

Perhaps that is a result of the sheer density of each track. The album is brimming with flourishes and fills to the point of being almost overdone. But it successfully walks the fine line between cluttered and bland.

The album’s biggest hitch is that at times the songs can blend into each other. That is to say that it took several listens to recognize the merits and distinctions of each song, more so than usual. Once those distinctions became clear, the record came into form.

The album’s sound is so solid, so dense, that it seems to grip all the tracks and hold them close, guarding each song’s identity. But that’s always sort of been Bright Eyes’ way; it can take a minute to crack the heart of the song.

Bright Eyes’ ability to return from almost a decade apart and master their sound with such a diverse instrumentation is notable. That solidity and the lyrics’ unwillingness to submit to the existential struggles it labels are assuring.

“Down in the Weeds” is at once resigned and determined, assured and topical. It is anxious, poignant and definitely worth a listen. It is almost prophetically apocalyptic, which leads one to understand that, at least to Oberst, it’s been this way all along.