BRIGHT EYES - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning/ Digital Ash In A Digital Urn

And in the end, the inevitable popularity arrived. The invitation to the "Vote For Change Tour", top spots for singles on the Billboard chart, magazine covers with curious reinterpretations of songs suddenly discovered (but not yet fully understood). Unsettling signs, potentially heralding an imminent shift into different territory, in terms of company kept and attitudes struck. Far more dangerous than the double-album factor, which was actually predictable in a character who has never feigned modesty or masked his inevitable self-regard.

Instead, Conor Oberst remains entirely (and completely) true to himself: in his excesses, in the way he presents himself, and in his immense talent. Any doubts are erased by the first guitar chord; the potential criticisms remain the same, and those who never could stand him certainly won't start now, but they won't be able to seize on the hoped-for stylistic missteps of a man who had decided to release two albums simultaneously ahead of his Springsteen-esque idea of touring in support of Kerry. And if the current hype has (also) depended on an event like that, so much the better: for once, someone who deserves it gets noticed. It's rare, but that doesn't make it a bad thing.

Just reading the liner notes is enough to realize that nothing has changed. Saddle Creek as it should be, with the usual names collaborating: among others, Maria Taylor, Andy LeMaster, the trusty Mike Mogis, and the intrusion (on "Digital Ash In A Digital Urn") of friend Nick Zinner (Yeah Yeah Yeahs), already spotted at some Bright Eyes shows. Resting on these certainties, Conor played a double hand: one acoustic, tied to his indie-folk past, the other caught between electricity and electronics, presented as experimental but which is really just the same version relocated to a vaguely pop territory.

Anyone who spent countless long nights lulled by the notes of "Letting Off The Happiness" and "Fevers And Mirrors" will from today do the same with I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, closer to those records than to the syncopated baroqueness of the recent "Lifted...". This is the original Oberst: guitar, anguished voice, and intrusions of keyboards or horns. Broken, bare-bones arrangements facing an equally exposed listener, in which the very concept of song reveals its most sincere, raw (yet also soft) meaning by tying itself to the American singer-songwriter tradition. The single "Lua" is its heart, passionate and deliberately blurred, while the body of the record can also let loose ("Another Travelin' Song"), occasionally winking at Gordon Gano ("At The Bottom Of Everything").

As in his finest moments, Conor sketches vignettes tinged with thunderous melancholy ("Road To Joy"), revels in twilight narratives ("Old Soul Song"), feeds on drinks with a high emotional proof ("First Day of My Life", "Land Locked Blues" with Emmylou Harris), and wanders through country landscapes of the new millennium ("Train Under Water"). It's a hushed album, yet violent in its emotions, where the songwriting feels so natural that it only makes more evident the gift of a twenty-four-year-old who already has an impressive number of unforgettable pages behind him.

Digital Ash In A Digital Urn, far from being an absurd choice, escapes the classifications of its twin while, at the same time, reaffirming its creator's talent. The arrangements are more complex, with tangible pulses that break from tradition to head toward territory lit up by a dreamy pop sensibility. The vocals remain persuasive, and the approach to songwriting doesn't come across as oblique as expected. What changes is the surrounding texture: veering off course, it takes cues from Postal Service (the collaboration with Jimmy Tamborello is no coincidence) and comes alive again in indietronic tracks where the singer-songwriter core only emerges from within (clearly demonstrated by "Take It Easy (Love Nothing)").

Overall, more than solid, the album offers something extra in the swaying sprawl of "Hit The Switch", the sweet convulsions of "Arc Of Time", the none-too-vague Cure aftertaste of "Gold Mine Gutted", and the nursery-rhyme grubbiness of "I Believe In Symmetry".

While not on the same level as its companion release, "Digital Ash…" carries even greater weight in showcasing the dazzling possibilities of a figure who today remains unique and indispensable. Even for those who can't stand him.

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30/04/2026