Undecided: Bright Eyes, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
Dear Conor,
See, I'd been steering clear of your albums because I wasn't sure I'd be into them. Like, I'm always reading about how you started a band at age eight or something, how you're described as "a young Bob Dylan," and that you have a way with the ladies. I also read that you're a vegan. Based on those factoids, you can understand, I'm sure, why I might not be so keen to throw down my money on your work. From your photos, I can surmise that you don't wash much. Your hair is long, but not too long so that you can still see the effusiveness of the fans in your audience. You wear an awful lot of ironic t-shirts—you know, ones that say things like "Bizzy Builder's Softball League," or "Wichita High School Seniors 1988" and can be bought at Urban Outfitters for around $25.00 You definitely have a Look. I wonder if it is in fact a Look or is simply how you look.
Your music is difficult for me, too. I can't tell if you're sincere or if you just want to sleep with me. I don't know how you can sing things like:
And 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…
And be totally straight-faced! I mean, maybe you can, but maybe it's all a lie. I'm not sure. I know that I am an earnest person, a person who believes in the good of people, a person who wants to push the bullshit to the side of the road and make way for hopefulness, for happiness. And I'd like to think you feel the same way—your lyrics seem to indicate that you do—but I fear that your persona is flat and produced, you know? That you want us to think you really understand love and heartbreak and isolation, but the truth of it is that you simply know what sells and you're a damn good salesman. I fear that living in the world has made me cynical enough that I can no longer tell when someone is being genuinely real. That's sad, don't you think?
Listen, Conor, I'm not trying to insult you or anything. I guess I'm just trying to tell you that I don't know what to make of you yet. I bought your latest album and some of it knocks my socks off, but some of it makes me cringe. When you sing:
Yours is the first face that I saw/
I think I was blind before I met you /
Now I don't know where I am /
I don't know where I’ve been/
But I know where I want to go…
I feel kind of embarrassed for you. "'I was blind before I met you'??? What is that?!," I think. But then I have to check myself and say, "Iseult, don't be so hard-hearted. He could mean it. He could." Do you? Sasha Frere-Jones, in his profile of you in the most recent New Yorker, says that you know what you're singing is way softhearted, but because you know that, your charm factor is increased exponentially. Look what you did there! I can see why indie-rock girls with their ironic t-shirts, and glasses, and All-Stars would wet their pants at lyrics like those. They look up at you on stage and think things like, "If only you got to know me you'd see that we have a connection" or "I wish my boyfriend were as sensitive as you are," and "I can imagine us spending a lazy Sunday morning together with the Times crossword puzzle. We'd have some bread from City Bakery and lounge around in bed. And he'd sing that song he'd written about me. Then we'd make love. And he'd come and I wouldn't, but that's okay because I'd know how stressed he was from performing, that he'd given his fans everything he had the night before. I'd tell him I totally understand and he'd tell me how I'm so beautiful I make him want to cry. And he'd even cry just a little bit. We'd hold each other and tell each other that as long as we're together, we can face the morning sun. And we'd cry together. And then he'd wipe away my tears and kiss me so hard and take my breath away…"
Hey! I just wrote your next single!
Anyway, good luck with your tour and everything. From what I've read, this album is going to make you a big star. I'll give it another listen when I'm not feeling so suspicious.
Best,
Iseult
Bright Eyes, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
Purchased at Virgin Megastore, Michigan Avenue, Chicago
February 2005
See, I'd been steering clear of your albums because I wasn't sure I'd be into them. Like, I'm always reading about how you started a band at age eight or something, how you're described as "a young Bob Dylan," and that you have a way with the ladies. I also read that you're a vegan. Based on those factoids, you can understand, I'm sure, why I might not be so keen to throw down my money on your work. From your photos, I can surmise that you don't wash much. Your hair is long, but not too long so that you can still see the effusiveness of the fans in your audience. You wear an awful lot of ironic t-shirts—you know, ones that say things like "Bizzy Builder's Softball League," or "Wichita High School Seniors 1988" and can be bought at Urban Outfitters for around $25.00 You definitely have a Look. I wonder if it is in fact a Look or is simply how you look.
Your music is difficult for me, too. I can't tell if you're sincere or if you just want to sleep with me. I don't know how you can sing things like:
And 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…
And be totally straight-faced! I mean, maybe you can, but maybe it's all a lie. I'm not sure. I know that I am an earnest person, a person who believes in the good of people, a person who wants to push the bullshit to the side of the road and make way for hopefulness, for happiness. And I'd like to think you feel the same way—your lyrics seem to indicate that you do—but I fear that your persona is flat and produced, you know? That you want us to think you really understand love and heartbreak and isolation, but the truth of it is that you simply know what sells and you're a damn good salesman. I fear that living in the world has made me cynical enough that I can no longer tell when someone is being genuinely real. That's sad, don't you think?
Listen, Conor, I'm not trying to insult you or anything. I guess I'm just trying to tell you that I don't know what to make of you yet. I bought your latest album and some of it knocks my socks off, but some of it makes me cringe. When you sing:
Yours is the first face that I saw/
I think I was blind before I met you /
Now I don't know where I am /
I don't know where I’ve been/
But I know where I want to go…
I feel kind of embarrassed for you. "'I was blind before I met you'??? What is that?!," I think. But then I have to check myself and say, "Iseult, don't be so hard-hearted. He could mean it. He could." Do you? Sasha Frere-Jones, in his profile of you in the most recent New Yorker, says that you know what you're singing is way softhearted, but because you know that, your charm factor is increased exponentially. Look what you did there! I can see why indie-rock girls with their ironic t-shirts, and glasses, and All-Stars would wet their pants at lyrics like those. They look up at you on stage and think things like, "If only you got to know me you'd see that we have a connection" or "I wish my boyfriend were as sensitive as you are," and "I can imagine us spending a lazy Sunday morning together with the Times crossword puzzle. We'd have some bread from City Bakery and lounge around in bed. And he'd sing that song he'd written about me. Then we'd make love. And he'd come and I wouldn't, but that's okay because I'd know how stressed he was from performing, that he'd given his fans everything he had the night before. I'd tell him I totally understand and he'd tell me how I'm so beautiful I make him want to cry. And he'd even cry just a little bit. We'd hold each other and tell each other that as long as we're together, we can face the morning sun. And we'd cry together. And then he'd wipe away my tears and kiss me so hard and take my breath away…"
Hey! I just wrote your next single!
Anyway, good luck with your tour and everything. From what I've read, this album is going to make you a big star. I'll give it another listen when I'm not feeling so suspicious.
Best,
Iseult
Bright Eyes, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
Purchased at Virgin Megastore, Michigan Avenue, Chicago
February 2005
posted by Iseult at 4:29 PM
2 Comments:
I don't know wether to be insulted, as a Bright Eyes fan or sort of applaud you for going against the grain and not praising Conor. I don't completely agree with you but I can sort of see where you are coming from. But in the end, when all is said and done, does it matter if he means these things or not?
Oh, and I don't think that the sort of stuff that Conor sings is what is selling at the moment. Also, I don't think this is going to be the album that "makes him famous". He's just a Critic's Darling.
Hes doing wut he wants,
this albumn expresses such emotion, the words he says describe the feelings ive been trying to express for such a long time... and weather he means them or not, i thank him for finding them.
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