The sense of maximalism that has accompanied some of
Bright Eyes
' best work comes back to the forefront on the band's monolithic album
Five Dice, All Threes
. Centered as always around
Conor Oberst
's wobbly vocals and dark-night-of-the-soul songwriting, the arrangements here are complex and packed to capacity. Tack piano, multiple tracks of distorted drums, leering organ, and banjo breakdowns that come out of nowhere are just some of the sounds that bump into each other on "Bas Jan Ader" (a song named after the late Dutch experimental conceptual artist), and multiple songs like "Rainbow Overpass" employ
Neutral Milk Hotel
-esque elements like buzzsaw bass guitar and triumphant brass sections.
Oberst
's lyrical perspectives remain as bleak and despondent as ever, if focused more on the decay and weariness of middle age with the same heavy lens that his earlier work drew from the confusion and upheaval of early adulthood. For as depressive as
's songs often are, the sound of
is largely bright and lively. "Bells and Whistles" kicks off with a childlike melody played on xylophone and mirrored by a chorus of whistling, "Trains Still Run on Time" is an upbeat rocker saturated with sweet little melodic synths and crunchy guitars, and folksy acoustic tunes like "Real Feel 105°" sway and saunter but never sulk. Even the downtempo
Cat Power
duet "All Threes," a comparatively minimal song with a spacious rhythm and fluid, funky bass, sounds more transcendent than wallowing. As
's
Chan Marshall
riffs playfully, directing the band to "take it down" with a smirking affect, one gets the sense that she and
were having fun while making this sad dirge. Of course,
are defined by overpowering, larger-than-life sadness, and
can't let things stay too light for the entire album. "The Time I Have Left" is a greyscale piano ballad with guest vocals from
the National
Matt Berninger
that ponders mortality without much hope. This deep into his career, however,
seems to have lightened up to the degree that he regularly tempers his emotional pain with moments of absurdity. While
Berninger
croons with the dour force of the most hopeless
Leonard Cohen
song over ghostly piano, there's an undercurrent of electronic processing on his vocals and the extremely out-of-place sound of hyped-up DJ scratching, low in the mix but completely impossible to ignore in the context of this otherwise heartbreaking song. There's silliness and joviality to offset the sadness and intensity throughout
.
's storytelling songwriting remains despairing and maudlin, but he seems more self-aware of this than ever before, injecting some triumph and levity into these songs that suggest he's not just smiling through the pain, but laughing at how ridiculous life can be, and maybe even secretly a little bit grateful for being able to experience it all. ~ Fred Thomas