By just about anyone’s standards this is a brilliant, breathtaking album. One of the first things that will strike you is Oberst’s wavering, affecting voice; technically he’s not a great singer but he sounds amazing, reminiscent of some forgotten sixties troubadour. Appropriately enough, the album begins with him talking directly to the listener, as he shall continue to do even once the music proper begins. Guitars and mandolins eventually break in turning this track into first song ‘At the Bottom of Everything’; already the songwriting is good enough to do that voice justice, a mixture of whimsy and social commentary. This song ends with the strangely comforting lines “I’m happy just because / I found out I am really no one” – and then the similarly nihilistic ‘We are Nowhere and it’s Now’ begins, this time with country siren Emmylou Harris joining Oberst on vocals. It’s a haunting duet and the song sounds like it could possibly just be an alternative hit.

‘Lua’ is a tragic love song of sorts, seemingly as much towards the addiction as the addict (Oberst himself being no stranger to the darker indulgences out there); it’s spine-tingling-ly quiet, just a guitar and that voice. Current single ‘First Day of My Life’ is more straightforward, a touching ode to blossoming love (“with these things there’s no telling, we just have to wait and see / But I’d rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery.”) ‘Train Under Water’ and ‘Another Travelin’ Song’ are the album’s most straightforward country-rock songs, but they’re no filler – both are great pieces of music in their own right.

Things turn darker and more explicitly political by the last three songs. Emmylou Harris returns for the sublime ‘Landlocked Blues’, on which Oberst struggles to understand his own private life in the midst of a world at war – the hairs on the back of your neckwill stand on end when you hear him spit damningly “But greed is a bottomless pit / And our freedom’s a joke we’re just taking the piss.” Powerful stuff, continued on album closer ‘Road to Joy’ which (apparently) bounces along to the tune of Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ – “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.”

If these themes of alienation, addiction and political dissention put you off, don’t let them. There’s so much more to ‘I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning’ than a snarling indie kid railing against politicians and priests. In fact, it makes for a strangely life affirming listen; somehow Oberst makes this life of normlessness sound attractive, liberating even, even if it is ultimately a hollow experience.

Bright Eyes, along with such up-and-coming songwriters as Willie Mason, has been called the fabled ‘New Dylan’ by much of the musical press. It’s an unfair and misleading label (not least on the ‘old’ Dylan who, as far as I am aware, is in no need of replacing just yet.) Oberst doesn’t really sound anything like Dylan, although in terms of the ability to write great songs and distil life experience into a few powerful lines, perhaps comparisons can be made. However, Bright Eyes should be celebrated in his own right – if he continues to make albums such as this (and doesn’t take those indulgences too far) we could have a new champion for the disillusioned. Even if he doesn’t, this will remain an instantly classic piece of work that everyone should be forced to listen to. Brilliant.

Mathew West lives in Edinburgh, which he considers to be a vast improvement over Stonehaven where he was brought up (if you don’t know where Stonehaven is, don’t try to find out. Some things are best left alone). When he’s not throwing money away on cds, complaining, entertaining private Marxist fantasies, or watching TV, he occasionally gets around to studying for a degree in History and Sociology. Once he has his degree he has no idea what he’s going to do with it.

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© 2005 Laura Hird All rights reserved.