#7

My father is a great storyteller. A campfire his best soapbox, I have a well of fine memories my father told me – His words a collection of short stories I long for. He is extremely humorous, a comic with his storytelling, a cynic, the perfect exaggerator. Someone once told me the definition of comedy is exaggeration. My father is a Vietnam Veteran, something I seem to be more proud of than him. When I was much younger I had a school assignment that had to do with the Vietnam War. I was to interview my father and write a two-page essay on what I had learned. At my young age I know I was being protected from much of the truth but there was one story that has continued to stick with me. At barely nineteen years of age he had finished basic training and was now flying to be a part of this war, he was sitting near the window looking out and his eyes focused upon a large stream of smoke swirling upward into the sky. He told me his heart had sunk into the middle of his gut and the fear began swelling up inside him. His idea of what things might look like had been realized and his assumption was proving to be dead on for the most part. He imagined fire and smoke and there it was below as his aircraft began its preparation for landing. At the time of my first hearing this story my thoughts were completely different than now. Back then I imagined it was pretty darn cool, I pictured the camouflage fatigues, the M-16 rifles, the face paint, the boots, and how strong my father was. The photography in my head most certainly created from war movies; I had seen The Bridge on the River Kwai and The Great Escape by this time - I’m sure Steve McQueen or William Holden had formed the imagery in my mind. Many years later I perceive this story much differently, I still think how strong my father must have been but my mind is much more aware of the fear. The fear and uncertainty floats to the very top, I struggle comprehending what those feelings must have felt like. Were there tears? Where were his thoughts? Did he pray for comfort? I don’t know the answer to these questions. Once the aircraft landed and my father along with other young men exited the aircraft, he quickly learned his assumptions were wrong. From high above, the fire and smoke appeared to be war but it was not. The actions on the ground were relaxed and free, far more so than basic training had been. Men played cards, lounged around free of any shirt and a football was being tossed around. The fire and smoke, well, it was nothing more than a huge pile of human feces being burned. Throughout my life that story has stayed with me, it has been a frame of comfort and inspiration that I often draw from. It continually reminds me that things are practically never as they first appear, that our hasty and self-invented assumptions should remain private until the correct knowledge has been put to order.

I created the list of twenty-five albums before I actually started this blog. I’m never quite sure what will be written with each entry. I have no theme. The week before I will listen to the chosen album many times over and within those moments I usually have an idea of where to go.

With album number seven I am covering one of my very favorite artists. The real challenge for me was deciding which album I would highlight; I am biased toward all of his work and in the end it came down to the album in which I believe sent him on his way for good.

#7 Bright Eyes – I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning – 2005

Conor Oberst, the master behind Bright Eyes is the epitome of protest. He is a wall of challenge, opposition in every tune and lyric. He is persistent in disputing the status quo; he is everything authentic and pure that comes with questioning authority - mainly when this authority seems to be peppered with evil. However, this does not define Conor Oberst and Bright Eyes completely, he is a gifted songwriter and with I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning he created a giant folk album. The legendary Emmylou Harris sings background vocals on some of the tracks and the vast differences in their voices melt together in a strange and wonderful harmony. This is one of those albums that require multiple listens, not for the sake of acquiring a specific taste but for appreciation of the lyrics. And to think Conor was in his early twenties when he penned these songs is quite astounding to me.

I myself seem to be argumentative by nature, I have always questioned authority and when told I have to do something, that in itself is usually enough for me not to do it. Although, with that being said, I do conform to what I believe to be true, I do not fight that which feels right inside my chest. I get the feeling Conor Oberst and I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning shares this same approach. Our freedom of speech is one of many things that make our country so great. The fact that each of us have been granted the freedom to question what we feel or believe may be wrong and unjust is why I love America. When I think of my father, nineteen years old (baby-faced, just as I was at that age) dressed in army fatigues, a machine gun draped over one shoulder, I get confused by the mixed thoughts and emotions I feel. I suppose that is why I truly admire artists like Conor Oberst and am grateful we have been granted so many different platforms to express how we think and feel. Bright Eyes use music as their soapbox and as I said before the best setting for my father, a campfire.

And be sure and check out "At The Bottom of Everything" the first track from the album. This video is great and deep meaning can be found if desired but if not, that's okay too - It's a great song all the same.