Bright Eyes review: Down In the Weeds, Where the World Once Was is another classic to brood to

Band's first record in nine years feels like stepping back into the anxiety-filled world of previous albums

Bright Eyes will always hold the mantle for inner turmoil (Shawn Brackbill)

It’s 20 years since Conor Oberst made his name with Bright Eyes’ intensely raw album Fevers and Mirrors. Since the Omaha-based indie-rock trio – comprising Mike Mogis and Nate Walcott as well – went on hiatus after their 2011 LP The People’s Key, Oberst has released solo albums and formed a band with Phoebe Bridgers, Better Oblivion Community Center.

He’s also gone through a lot: a false accusation of sexual assault in 2013, the death of his brother, and divorce.

The resulting first Bright Eyes music in nine years, Down In the Weeds, Where the World Once Was, feels like stepping back into that anxiety-filled world, and the overriding echo and reverb add to the sense of nostalgia. They may now be into their forties, but Bright Eyes tap into adolescent gloom like it never left, with loss and regret on top of heartache and existential musings. The early rawness has waned, but Oberst’s vocals still have that tremor that sounds as though he’s on the brink of imploding. The drama is still there, too, from the grandiose orchestral backing to the doom-laden lyrics such as “Got to keep on going like it ain’t the end/ Got to change like your life is depending on it” (“Dance and Sing), and “Catastrophizing my birthday/ Turning forty/ Ending up like everyone” (“Iron and Rust”). It’s a fitting record for the global unease of the past few months, but one that’s characteristically intimate.

“Persona Non Grata” merges the personal and political, with bagpipes contributing stately melancholy. Down In the Weeds... is packed with melodies and the impressive arrangements of Walcott. The downbeat “One and Done” blends the electronic percussion of 2005’s Digital Ash in a Digital Urn with melodramatic strings, off-kilter piano, and the sweetness of harmonising backing vocals, while the build-up to urgent, syncopated brass and rolling drums on “Mariana Trench” is redolent of The National.

A direct response to fraternal grief, the heart-wrenching “Tilt-a-Whirl” increases its desperation with every verse. “Life’s a solitary song/ No one to clap or sing along/ It sounds so sweet and then it’s gone/ So suddenly”, Oberst sings, the “suddenly” heralding the abrupt ending of the song. There’s more clever mirroring of lyrics and music: sweeping strings capture the “cinematic endings” of the break-up track “Stairwell Song”. Bright Eyes will always hold the mantle for inner turmoil. Another classic to brood to.