I have to admit to not having had high hopes for this record, mainly because everything I’ve previously listened to by Bright Eyes has succeeded in making me feel distinctly unwell. There’s something about Conor Oberst's quivering yet practically monotone vocals that resonates unwelcomely with a portion of my gut and brings on the urge to throw up.
My malaise isn't helped by the relentless verbiage of his lyrics, apparently spewing like sewage from the ruptured cesspit of his soul. Judging by this song his prolixity hasn't diminished, although he's swapped introspection for portentous prophesising. 'Four Winds' namechecks Satan and the Whore of Babylon, rewrites a line from W.B. Yeats and makes passing references to genocide, decomposing bodies and the practice of communing with the dead. The artwork also dabbles in some runic symbolism that Led Zeppelin would probably have thought was really cool.
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The shock though is that in spite of all this the song is rather good. It sounds like the sort of upbeat country and western number that would have you tapping your foot and discreetly eyeing a potential dancing partner in the barn hall. The violin, mandolin and banjo unite in a joyous melee that not even Oberst's corpse-strewn apocalyptic narrative can quite deflate, and it's almost possible to imagine it getting mainstream radio play. Which I guess makes it a perverse triumph.
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