Streamlined to a trio, with guests from Sleater Kinney and other US alt luminaries, Bright Eyes (especially the ever indefinable Conor Oberst) is peeling off his early provocative credentials and trying to attack from within.
Named after a spiritualist commune in Florida, Cassadaga doesn’t so much continue the delicate heartbreak or outright political disgust of its predecessors, as subtly meld classic Americana with a lyrical prowess. Equally confusing as it is occasionally inspired, like an abstract painting it reveals its secrets gradually. While the music of the likes of Four Winds or If The Brakeman Turns My Way is pure country-rock, the words betray a US agitator on fine form. This has always been the case with Oberst (the once 20-something who asked in song if President Bush could smell the bullshit on his own breath, live on US TV), but his vehicles for politics (the Iraq war) are this time so radio-friendly that Cassadaga isn’t so much a collection of songs as a stable of Trojan horses.
For those looking for light, melancholic pop, a couple of songs will please. Oddly, for beginners, this is probably the best entry point to Bright Eyes’ massive canon of work. Perhaps Oberst knows that better than anyone.
