Conor Oberst
Outer South
Merge Records
By Mike Randall
It’s starting to seem, at least on the surface, that the Mystic Valley Band isn’t a side project for Conor Oberst. Two full-lengths in ten months, a documentary and a tour that doesn’t yet have an end in sight can easily leave that impression. Oberst seems comfortable in this band, not feeling wedded to Bright Eyes’ confessionals, instead cutting loose when he feels like it, but with the opportunity to still look inward when needed. With his supporting cast, he also has the option disappear into the background, a card he plays to varying degrees of success on his second solo effort, Outer South.
Last August, when the Mystic Valley Band appeared to be a Bright Eyes (which is every bit the solo project MVB is, if not more) diversion for Oberst, many were surprised at the consistency of his self-titled debut. Chock full of rustic country-rock travel documents, Conor Oberst was tight, concise and vastly underrated, and it was clear Oberst wasn’t the only engine under the hood. This time out,with 16 tracks, it wouldn’t be unjust to suggest the Mystic Valley Band was on his mind and nothing else. However, Outer South doesn’t sound like it had his focus, nor does it resemble a side project. It’s more like a record with a few sessions Oberst forgot to show up for.
On seven tracks, the singing reigns (and writing credits on almost as many) have been turned over to bandmmates Nik Freitas, Taylor Hollingsworth and Macey Taylor. While all are exceptional musicians and pull more than their share of weight, The Band they are not. Nik Freitas’ piano barnburner “Big Black Nothing,” the sloppy-drunk country of Hollingsworth’s “Snake Hill” and the Heartbreaker rock of the Oberst-penned, Taylor sung “Worldwide” are certainly listenable efforts, but they end up sounding like filler next to their leader, even though he’s not always on his A game. The result is a hit-or-miss collection of songs rather than an album.
As Oberst is still a songwriter of the highest caliber, there are some choice moments hidden in the trenches. The rough-around-the-edges nature of the band suits him well, and the many rocking club gigs they did clearly had an impact on Outer South’s direction. Whereas last time out Oberst followed the open road, here it seems to have steered him to an alley outside the bar at 3 a.m. There isn’t anything as catchy as “Sausalito” or “Get Well Cards,” but the Whiskeytown burn of “Slowly / Oh So Slowly” will certainly suffice, especially with Oberst’s wit in tact with lines like, “Oh, dementia, you better treat me good.” “To All the Lights In the Windows” resembles a Cassadaga B-side, but it’s “Roosevelt Room” that’s the album’s electric centerpiece. Tackling economic, political and societal issues, Oberst has never sounded angrier or more impassioned. Over scorching guitar and organ, he has created his own “All Along the Watchtower,” singing “I’d like to write my Congressman, but I can’t afford a stamp/You want me to pay my taxes so you can propagate your lies/While there’s barefoot dudes down in New Orleans looking like they’re gonna die.”
As neat as it his to hear Oberst fired up, when he picks up an acoustic guitar or drizzles his heart all over his sleeve it’s like visiting your childhood hometown. The breezy up-tempo rock of “Spoiled” finds Oberst chastising a former lover, giving her an earful with lines like, “You get everything you want and you still feel down.” The front-porch dobro of “Ten Women” is the standout and owner of Oberst’s finest writing on the record, while later, he channels Neil Young on the vintage “White Shoes,” sounding alone and shaky over isolated, melancholic folk. Oberst’s inflection on the excellent “I Got the Reason” validates the oft-painful Dylan comparisons, as he leads off the song by himself until the band punches in with melodic double-lead riffing and soaring organ. “You know, a lot can happen after everybody falls asleep,” Oberst sings in his most sly voice before eventually signing off with the “Danny Callahan”-esque bar brawler, “Nikorette.”
Call it the Ryan Adams Syndrome if you will, but it’s easy to be critical of a handful of songs when there’s so much material to sift through. Could Oberst have pared down Outer South into one of the year’s finer EPs? Absolutely. But this is a generous, team-playing Oberst who seems to be doing everything he can to make it clear this is a collective and not a bunch of hangers-on who wait by the phone until Oberst wants to tour or record. And if you don’t like it, there will probably be another record in the not-so-distant future with Oberst’s name on it.
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