bright eyes

Music: Austin City Limits

Conor Oberst is on public televison singing his little heart out with a nice Old Navy pullvover and cute floppy hair, with nicely groomed eyebrows and the angst of puberty. It seems to me he has a bit of Ani DiFranco syndrome: every thought that comes in a Waffle House moment is transferred to a napkin and then is deemed worthy of putting on an album.

I love me some Saddle Creek (yo, Faint! I luvs ya shit) but . . . am I the only one who gets all pukey when Oberst opens his mouth? What a fuckin' musical putz. Seriousy. How does David Lowery put it? "What the world needs now . . . ." I swear Bright Eyes is like the Dead Milkmen without a sense of humor. "Punk Rock Girl" becomes an plea for rape awareness.

Oberst is a tortured, eighth-grade putz. Period.