Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake It's Morning

Conor Oberst's voice is pretty terrible. It shakes, it rattles, it goes flat quite frequently. But in that exquisitely imperfect voice lies some genius, which becomes even more obvious in his compositional and lyrical abilities. Oberst, the lyricist and lead vocalist of the ever-evolving cast of characters known as Bright Eyes, also has a way of crafting his work which makes each piece not only a song, but a poem. The entire album is basically individual works as part of a greater whole - each song becomes a part of a larger story and statement.

"At the Bottom of Everything"

So there was this woman and she was, uh, on an airplane and she's flying to meet her fiancé sailing high above the--the largest ocean on planet earth. And she was seated next to this man who, you know, she had tried to start conversations and only--really the only thing she heard him say was to order his bloody mary. And she's sitting there and she's reading this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn't even pronounce the--the name of and she's feeling very bored and very despondent. And--and then, uh, suddenly there's this huge mechanical failure and one of the--the engines gave out and they started just falling -an- thirty thousand feet. And the pilot's on the microphone and he's saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Oh My God, I'm Sorry," and apologizing. And she looks at the man and she--and she says, "Where are we going?" and he looks at her and he says, "We're going to a party, it--it's a birthday party. It's your birthday party, happy birthday darling. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much." And then, uh, he starts humming this little tune and--and, uh, it kind of goes like this, it's kinda:

(1,2, 1, 2, 3, 4)
We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web. We must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read. Into the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair we must stare, we must stare, we must stare.
We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell, set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell. Into the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn't dream we must sing, we must sing, we must sing.
(And it will go like this)
While my mother waters plants my father loads his gun. He says, Death will give us back to God, just like the setting set is returned to the lonesome ocean. And then they splashed into the deep blue sea. Oh, it was a wonderful splash.
We must blend into the choir, sing as static as the whole. we must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul. And in this endless race of property and privilege to be won, we must run, we must run, we must run.
We must hang up in the belfry where the bats and moonlight laugh. We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past. Into the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love, we must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge.
(And then we'll get down there, way down to the bottom of everything and then we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it)
Oh my morning's coming back, the whole world's waking up. All the city buses swimming past. I'm happy just because. I found out I am really no one.

Track one of Bright Eyes' most popular record, I'm Wide Awake It's Morning, is called "At The Bottom Of Everything." The track begins with a long monologue (see above) about a woman on an airplane that is about to crash, and the man seated next to her tries to offer come comfort. What's interesting about the monologue is that it never appears in the album jacket, rather, the lyrics appear exactly as seen above after the count-in. There are also two phrases in bold which are included in the song, but not the printed lyrics.

If I've learned anything from all my years listening to Bright Eyes it is this: everything Conor Oberst does in every song he writes/composes has a definite purpose. In other words, if he includes a monologue that runs for a minute and 40 seconds at the beginning of a song, then there is a reason. In "At The Bottom Of Everything," Oberst as the narrator explains that this is the song the man on the plane sings to the woman to calm her down as the plane begins to plummet into the ocean. It is expressed in spoke word because it makes vague reference to the harsh realities that will be portrayed later in the album, therefor it needs to be set apart from this particular song so that it can be considered in relation to all of the other songs on the album. It is also a good backdrop for the muted guitar Oberst strums, which resembles a quickening heartbeat that continues to go faster as the plane makes its decent.

What's strange about these lyrics is that they're not very comforting at all. To summarize life as living by our social security numbers win meaningless things like property and privilege in an endless race would probably have an adverse affect on the listener. Therein lies the juxtaposition of the song - a sense of hopelessness leading to a dissatisfied end sung over a jaunty blue-grass rhythm that would, at face value, imply joy. However, the final lines of the song does give the impression that both characters have accepted their fate. When sung these lines are performed by two male voices, Oberst and Jim James of My Morning Jacket, but I've always interpreted the song as the voice of the female character in the song. I focus on the last two lines of the song - "I'm happy just because. I found out I'm really no one." - because here it seems the characters are set free by the meaninglessness of who they are and what little their lives mean within the greater world.

"Old Soul Song (For The New World Order)"

Grey light new day leaks through the window. An old soul song comes on the alarm clock radio. We walked for forty blocks to the middle of the place we heard that everything would be. And there were barricades to keep us off the street. But the crowd kept pushing forward 'til they swallowed the police.
They went wild...
We left before the dust had time to settle. And all the broken glass swept off the avenue. And all the way home held your camera like a bible, just wishing so bad that it held some kind of truth. And I stood nervous next to you in the dark room. You drop the paper in the water and it all begins to bloom.
They go wild...
Just when I get so lonesome I can't speak, I see some flowers on a hillside like a wall of new TVs.
They go wild...

"Old Soul Song (For The New World Order)" is the third song on the record and also includes two characters, though their genders are never specified. It is also the first song on the album in which we get a sense of the post-9/11 world in which the characters function, and how this world is affected by a war somewhere off in the distance. The setting is a dull gray morning; the two characters, one with a camera, witness an anti-war/anti-Bush protest. The song ends with the characters in a dark room while the photographer develops images of the battle between the protesters and the police. The beauty and poesy of this song lies in that almost none of this is said overtly in the lyrics (see above). Also, the song reads as a prose poem on the page, and its meaning is neither hindered nor helped by its portrayal as a song - it is just different and brilliantly so.

There is one major difference between the song on the page versus the song through the speakers. Notice that on the page the lines "They went wild..." and "They go wild..." (written twice)are only shown on the page once in succession. When the poem is sung, Oberst repeats "They went wild..." four times, "They go wild..." four times, and the second "They go wild..." seven times. Sung out, these lyrics are sung in a higher volume with more grittiness, allowing the voice to "go wild." Read on the page, these lines slightly lose this affect because they are seen singularly and are followed by elipses, which generally indicates, in poetry, a gentleness or trailing off, and also a more natural expression of how the mind functions in deep thought. It also tends to imply more insularity of thought. In "Old Soul Song..." neither version is necessarily better than the other, as with "At The Bottom Of Everything," however in this case the different portrayals of the song do take on new meaning and expression.

"Lua"

I know that it is freezing but I think we have to walk. I keep waving at the taxis they keep turning their lights off. But Julie knows a party at some actor's west side loft. Supplies are endless in the evening by the morning they'll be gone.
When everything is lonely I can be my own best friend. I get a coffee and a paper have my own conversations with the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection. The mask I polish in the evening by the morning looks like shit.
I know you have a heavy heart. I can feel it when we kiss. So many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it. But me I'm not a gamble you can count on me to split. The love I sell you in the evening by the morning will be gone.
You're looking skinny like a model with your eyes all painted black. You just keep going to the bathroom always say you be right back. Well, it takes one to know one, kid. I think you got it bad. But what is so easy in the evening by the morning is such a drag.
I got a flask inside my pocket we can share it on the train. And if you promise to stay conscious I will try and do the same. We might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain. But what was normal in the evening by the morning seems insane.
And I'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this. The reasons all have run away but the feeling never did. It's not something I would recommend but it is one way to live because what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is. It was so simple in the moonlight now it's so complicated. It was so simple in the moonlight... so simple in the moonlight... so simple in the moonlight...

On a personal level, "Lua" is one of those rare songs that changes my life every time I hear it. As a story, this song tells the tale if a single evening told from the perspective of the narrator (whom I've always assumed is male) struggling with his relationship with another female character. The boundaries of their relationship are very blurry - they use each other for differing purposes, and their perspectives are clouded by alcohol, a string of parties and endless nights, and her coke addiction. Makes for a pretty sordid story of two people in a mess.

One of the things I love about Conor Oberst's writing style is that none of his songs, particularly on this album, follow the "normal" song format, but are written as prose poems. "Lua" works better as a prose poem than many other songs on the album because even without the music it has a solid meter. Then, even with the music, Oberst sings in such a way that is closer to speech. Essentially this song becomes a spoken-word piece with musical backing.

What's interesting about this song is that as personal as it is with its first person perspective and varying conflicts (internal and external), it still fits with the larger theme of individuals living in a post-9/11 world and how that world has changed with the consciousness of war. While this is far from overt within this song, this theme does exist within the narrative. Here are two people representative of the hopelessness felt by numerous others at a time of unrest.

Looking at the last stanza and knowing Oberst's inspiration for the record as a whole, these last lines, "And I'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this. The reasons all have run away but the feeling never did. It's not something I would recommend but it is one way to live because what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is," begin to hold new meaning. Yes, the male character is expressing his uncertainty and the feeling of being trapped in a volatile lifestyle he knows will be detrimental to himself and the female character, but there is more. When the war in Iraq started and continued into 2005 (when the album was released) we were all questioning what actually started the conflict - what was the real "trouble"? Did it even start with Iraq? Despite those questions, and despite knowing that the wrong decision was made, the feeling of anger still existed, people were just confused about who they were supposed to be angry at. And finally, the night we sent bombs into Iraq it made sense, but later, maybe the next day, maybe the next year, it didn't seem so right or simple anymore.

"Road to Joy"

The sun came up with no conclusions. Flowers sleeping in their beds. The city cemetery's humming. I'm wide awake it's morning.
I have my drugs I have my woman. They keep away my loneliness. My parents they are their religion, but sleep in separate houses.
I read that body count out of the paper. And now it's written all over my face. No one ever plans to sleep out in the gutter. Sometimes that's just the most comfortable place.
So no I'm drinking, breathing, writing, singing. Every day I'm on the clock. My mind races with all my longings. but can't keep up with what I've got.
So I hope I don't sound too ungrateful, what history gave modern man. A telephone to talk to strangers, a machine gun, and a camera lens.
So when you're asked to fight a war that's over nothing. It's best to join the side that's going to win. And no one's sure how all of this got started. But we're going to make them goddamn certain how it's going to end.
I could have been a famous singer, if I had someone else's voice. But failure's always sounded better, let's fuck it up boys. Make some noise.

The final track on the record is "Road to Joy," which is a seemingly energetic and joyful track, but actually becomes a quite violent war cry as the song progresses. The music does follow the same tune as "Ode to Joy" however the lyrics have a very different meaning. Oberst actually expresses feelings of discontent from to wars: Iraq and Vietnam. The Vietnam war showed the country just how impossible it was for some var vets to return to "normal" life, just as we're seeing today with injured vets and PTSD. Oberst writes, "I read the body count out of the paper... No one ever plans to sleep out in the gutter. Sometimes that's just the most comfortable place," which refers to how readily available this information was during the Vietnam war and also today, with the nightly news constantly reminding us that we are at war and people are dying. Also he alludes to homeless veterans, and those who may actually be more comfortable on the streets because they can't function within their families any more or don't have enough money coming from veterans' benefits.

In the most obvious expression of anger towards the war, Oberst screams in the second-to-last stanza, "So when you're asked to fight a war that's over nothing. It's best to join the side that's gonna win. And no one's sure how all of this got started. But we're gonna make 'em goddam certain how it's gonna end. Oh yeah we will. Oh yeah we will!" His battle cry becomes a satire for the attitude of certain trigger-happy politicians.

To me, Conor Oberst's songs are so obviously poems. Through his expressive style of singing - the screams, whispers, shaking, and mumbling - and his ability to present songs in poetic form, it is easy to see how what he does with Bright Eyes is unnameable. With this album he presents not only personal stories, but the story of a country in a state of unrest, and he does so with such few words that his pieces must be considered both songs and poems.