The Review

Issue date: 4/10/07 Section: Mosaic

Media Credit: Courtesy of Amazon.com [Click to enlarge]

"Cassadaga"
Bright Eyes
Saddle Creek
Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

According to Cassadaga.com, the town of the same name is located 45 minutes northeast of Orlando. In the Web site's "History" section, it reads, "This is a place that's out of the main stream, a place to relax and get back in touch with yourself." Or in simpler terms, it's a spiritual haven for those in search of assistance from "America's finest psychics."

Conor Oberst, Omaha's often-lauded, 27-year-old singer-songwriter behind Bright Eyes, must have inhaled too many Manhattan fumes. After his New York love letter, 2005's "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" and the electronically-spastic "Digital Ash in a Digital Urn," Bright Eyes returns with "Cassadaga" - a fully realized and satisfying album that is unafraid not only to ask far-reaching questions, but to live with its gray uncertainty.

Oberst isn't afraid to attack religion (the single "Four Winds") or war ("No One Would Riot For Less"), but mostly, the battle is within himself. Throughout "Cassadaga," Oberst sings like a nomad blindly walking to no-where, all in search of something intangible. So then where is Oberst's source of disenchantment?

It could be the bad taste left in the singer's mouth from his high-profile relationship with actress Winona Ryder (Oberst sings on "Classic Cars," "If I get out of California, I'm going back to my home state / To tell them all that I made a mistake.") or his yearning for another woman (the gorgeously sweeping "Make a Plan to Love Me"). But it doesn't add up - this isn't the same sad-faced teenager writing pathetic break-up songs (2000's "It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends") in his parents' basement. Apparently Oberst isn't sold either - he sings "Oh, I've made love, yeah, I've been fucked, so what?" on "Hot Knives."

While the songs are immediately beautiful (long-time Bright Eyes producer Mike Mogis is a likely reason), it's the tracks' desires for something greater than instant pleasure that solidifies "Cassadaga's" excellence.

The last two songs at least offer a shed of light: "I Must Belong Somewhere" is Oberst scribbling to leave things, both serene ("Leave the ocean's roar in the turquoise shell") and societal ("Leave the poor black child in his crumbling school"), behind only because they must, without explanation, have a place on earth. If "Somewhere" is Oberst's valiant attempt at reason, then closer "Lime Tree" is his acceptance of incomprehension. After a friend's abortion, Oberst is left with no answers but feels content by the song's end: "I felt lost and found with every step I took," proving that cleansing can only occur when you're ready for it.

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