
I don't know about you, but I needed this record. I've been thinking a lot lately about August Brown's stunning essay on Bright Eyes and maturity -- both his and Conor's. The numbing affects of age on hearts and minds and ears. I'm 23; in the brief decade of my active participation in American popular music, it has become both priceless and free, the master of ceremonies to seemingly spontaneous, druggy American Apparel dance parties and a more frequent visitor to prisoners of headphone-bound lonely hearts. It has become oppressively possible to hear too [...]