Bright Eyes

3 New Hit Songs From Bright Eyes
Wichita, 2001

I got in some great swipes at Conor Oberst last time he was on Australian stages, as I'm fond of boasting to company. I think my friends understood why I did it, as well – even though they'd been tortured by my collection of obscure Bright Eyes singles for years. There are few other contemporary songwriters whose work is so prolific and so consistently beautiful, if any. And none I've hated more. Not even bloody Jeff Buckley.

Oberst is, in his songs at least, a cute troubadour with a taste for flings matched only by his willingness to lament them from the next town as if they were meant to last forever, wandering about in constant amazement like he was switching eyeballs at the rate of contact lenses. He writes like someone stuck between the ages of six and 16, obsessed with wonder, heartbreak and outrage and trying his hardest to publicise every last sin. What makes Bright Eyes so notable is that Oberst can match his confessional and stream-of-thought lyrics with incredible music, seemingly without even breaking a sweat.

The problem is that few of us can live the fairytale Oberst complains relentlessly about. Most of us can't mope around stoned whining "life's shit" and expect to get a date, or have a song dedicated to us by a razor-fringed boy with an acoustic guitar. We have to learn how to make the boss coffee to pay the rent and give up writing poetry for, as John Birmingham describes the art of journalism, pouring saccharine ooze over cancer babies and beached whales. And to get ourselves through it, we learn to hate the part of ourselves that identifies with Oberst's tirelessly romantic, wide-eyed view of the world.

"Hooray, I like feelings and shit!" someone yelled when Bright Eyes played the Prince of Wales in St Kilda. It was a great gig, but I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. I got drunk, got a ride home from an extremely kind acquaintance and went to play – much to my confusion – 'Drunk Kid Catholic' from the obscure 3 New Hit Songs EP. I guess it's a love/hate thing. Conor Oberst is the perfect romantic and I, clearly, am a struggling one.