PT Bruiser

5. The People’s Key by Bright Eyes

I really didn’t think we would ever see another Bright Eyes record. I figured between the solo album, the Mystic Valley Band, and Monsters of Folk, Conor had moved on for good. Instead, on February 15th (his birthday) we got another Bright Eyes release and another re-interpretation of the Bright Eyes sound, which has gone from lo-fi emo rock (Fevers and Mirrors) to folkier Americana sounds (Lifted; I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning) to still dismal-sounding electronic (Digital Ash in a Digital Urn). The People’s Key marshals the musical heritage of previous Bright Eyes releases while bringing in synths and subtle reggae influences to produce something new and distinctive altogether.

This album flows. While the songs don’t all sound the same, they belong together, explore the same thematic content (fun fact: Hitler is mentioned in no less than three songs), and deserve to be played next to each other. Sure, I play favorites—the synth jamming on “Shell Games” warms the cockles of my heart, and back in June  ”A Machine Spiritual (In the People’s Key)” got stuck in my head for a very memorable few days in New York and Israel. But even though there are exceptional tracks, I’m just has happy to put the album on while doing the dishes and let my ears soak in it.

One thing that makes this an exceptional Bright Eyes album for me—silly though it may seem—is the random talking by what sounds like a conspiracy theorist mystic/motivational speaker at the beginning and end of various songs. Having a spoken intro is the norm for Bright Eyes, but most of the time it’s annoying and I just skip forward to the song. But the avuncular warmth and paranoia of this cat, who kindly explains the descriptions of aliens in Genesis and on Sumerian tablets, is touching in some way, and it gels perfectly with the music. I especially love the concluding remarks to the last song about how “the transcendent is to love” and “We say, ‘Look, I’m not gonna go kick that guy’s ass, that happened ten years ago. I wish him all the best in the world.’ That’s love, or compassion, or uh…what do you call it? (Audience member: Mercy) Mercy.”

I’ve listened to this album plenty this year and I don’t regret it one bit. It’s been good to me, especially in my Scotland days. But if I were to re-rank in a year, it would probably drop a few spots. It’s a 2011 album for me, I think, not a timeless one.