imagine, if you will, a town. in this town, high on a hill, is a structure so menacing that children write folk tales about it. it has become a monster of its own. it eats up the town crazies and never lets them out.
welcome to the better oblivion community center.
i kind of made up those extra details, but something called better oblivion community center does exist. let me introduce you to its inhabitants.
Conor Oberst is most well-known for being a member of the band Bright Eyes. Phoebe Bridgers is an indie musician who has grown a universe of her own in the past few years. With a large overlap between their respective genres and each having admired the other’s work, the two became official collaborators and friends after playing a show together in 2016. From writing credits to backing features, Oberst and Bridgers worked closely together. it only seemed natural that they turned this casual partnership into the real thing. Through countless writing sessions, they came up with what would eventually become “Didn’t Know What I Was In For,” the first track on Better Oblivion Community Center’s (BOCC’s) eponymous debut. As they worked together to create more and more art, they began to tease that big news was to come to fans and admirers. advertisements and brochures on a mysterious organization popped up all across Los Angeles, along with a phone line that delivered a cryptic message. “Hello, thank you for calling the Better Oblivion Community Center info line. […] Feel free to leave a message, or try us back again…” said the (now-defunct) voicemail greeting. in the background of the track, a melancholy guitar song is accompanied by oberst’s vocals—a snippet of the eventual eighth track of the album, Forest Lawn. Bridgers and Oberst made their television debut in January of 2019 on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert the day before the album’s release. What followed were segments on CBS This Morning, NPR Tiny Desk, and eventually a US/Europe tour, along with a music video for their lead single, “Dylan Thomas” (directed by Michelle Zauner of Japanese Breakfast!). Needless to say, Better Oblivion Community Center was making big strides for a brand-new band.
enough about them. let’s talk about me.
i’ve long been a fan of phoebe bridgers. bright eyes, a little less. recently, i’ve become about 50% absorbed into bright eyes’ debut album, I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning.i’m sure i will eventually get to the whole thing. as a part-time bright eyes fan and a die-hard phoebe bridgers fan, this collaboration was just about perfect for me.
this narrative that i am about to share is almost entirely framed by my love for phoebe bridgers and her music. if half this article is about her, which it probably will be, chalk it up to my “pharb”-ness. i’m sure my admiration for this duo will shine through any criticism i have for them. i implore you, think of this less as an album review, and more of a love letter of unabashed praise for a project i adore.
better oblivion community center has provided a soundtrack for my life since the moment i first listened to it. for a short while, it held the ever-changing title of my favourite album. it accompanied me everywhere from subway rides to studying sprees. i posted their songs online, quoted them to my friends, and did just about everything you can do when something takes over your life. i lost myself in this LP, and when i came out, i was a different person. this collaboration has effectively changed the course of my existence.
this life-changing event happened to me, and then i forgot about it.
well, not exactly. i didn’t forget. i could never. but i stopped listening to the album the way i used to. it became a temporary fixture instead of a permanent one. sometimes, tracks would come on shuffle, but otherwise, it disappeared.
then, for my fifteenth birthday, i received a copy of the album on cd. earlier that week, i had been telling a friend about how much i wanted the album, and suddenly, it was in my hands. however, this did not propel me back into listening. Better Oblivion Community Center sat on my shelf for months, until a few weeks ago. i decided on a whim to listen to it with a friend. this would become the second life-changing moment that oberst and bridgers brought me. for the last few weeks, i have been listening to almost nothing but their music. it has once again consumed me, filling my ears and eyes and brain like a sonic drug.
as i examine this album with the retrospect of a born-again fan, i invite you to listen along. pull up the album on whatever service you’d like. whether you’re a returning listener or a first-timer, i hope that you can learn to cherish this album the way i do.
TRACK 1: Didn’t Know What I Was In For
Better Oblivion Community Center opens with a melancholic acoustic guitar and a poignant lyrical stanza. “My telephone, it doesn’t have a camera/If it did, I’d take a picture of myself,” sings Bridgers with her typical hushed and sweet tone. Any listeners who might be unfamiliar with her songwriting are given a taste of what’s to come: haunting meanings wrapped in everyday statements. This is exemplified in the next lyrics: “If it did, I’d take a picture of the water/And the man on the offramp/Holding up the sign that’s asking me for help.” Oberst joins her in the forthcoming choruses and verses. “I didn’t know what I was in for/When they took my belt and strings,” the two sing together in the second chorus. Their starkly different voices do not melt together, but rather give the illusion of musical instruments; two separate structures creating something beautiful. “They told me I’d gone crazy/My arms were strapped in a straitjacket/So I couldn’t save those TV refugees.” Along with the aforementioned chorus couplet, these lyrics are some of the only ones in the album to mention anything akin to the fictional psych ward from which the band gets its name. The duo seemed to present this concept as an institution overseen by them, but these lyrics read from the perspective of the patient. “Didn’t Know What I Was In For” leaves us with a burning question —whose story exactly are Oberst and Bridgers telling?
TRACK 2: Sleepwalkin’
“Like, it’s impossible to count. One, two, three, four!” says Conor Oberst in the audio clip that begins “Sleepwalkin’.” The song begins with an ambitious tempo change, a hyperactive intro riff slowing down into a calm rhythm. One of the more upbeat tracks, it tells the story of a friendship,—likely that of the two behind the album. “We could never compromise/But fight until the death keeps us alive” says Bridgers in her respective verse, with the sound of a smile. The chorus, however, brings a darker tone to the mid-energy song: “Is this having fun?/It’s not like the way it was” they say. Beginning the final stanza with a near 180 to sadness, it comes back around. “Sleepwalkin’” closes off with something that could be called inspiring; “I gave what I got/It came as a shock/To find out I’m fine with what I lost”
TRACK 3: Dylan Thomas
Named for the Welsh poet, “Dylan Thomas” is one of the more well-known songs from this album. Unlike some of the other, clearer songs on the album, this track remains a mystery to me. What could “The king is only playing a game of four-dimensional chess” actually mean? However, one of my favourite lyrics from BOCC comes from this song; “That ghost is just a kid in a sheet” is clearly a reference to the ghostly imagery Bridgers used in her earlier solo work, specifically on her debut Stranger in the Alps. If I were to categorize the setting of a song, “Dylan Thomas” feels like a bittersweet afternoon on a pier, somewhere far enough to forget what happened yesterday.
TRACK 4: Service Road
“Service Road” is one of my personal favourite songs from this album. I also count it as one of its two saddest songs, the other being “Forest Lawn.” The reason I find these songs to be so entirely wistful is that they are about Oberst’s brother Matthew, who passed in 2016. “You should really call your brother/Someone put up a picture where he can’t stand,” says Oberst over raw acoustic guitars. This star of the show is Oberst’s trembling vocals, taking on the feeling of a close friend’s comforting pity. His decision to separate himself from the story of his brother’s addiction gives him a beautiful outside perspective. This sentiment of comfort is supported by Bridgers’ backing parts, particularly in the chorus. She steps aside to let Conor sing, but when she joins him, you can almost envision the hand of a friend on the speaker’s shoulder. “Who are you?” she sings in an angelic, breathy falsetto. “Who are you… waiting for?” Oberst seals off this ode to his elder sibling in telling someone to go. “Just go/Right into the falling snow…” Whether he is telling his brother, or his friend, or someone entirely different, the emotion in his voice is clear. “Just go/Past the trucks on the service road/Just go/Until you feel different”
TRACK 5: Exception to the Rule
Admittedly, this song is my least favourite. The synthesizer gives me a headache, and the repeating backing voice (“Why? Why?” over and over again) is not too pleasant. However, like every other song by these two, there is something that can redeem it. With “Exception to the Rule,” that redeeming quality is the beautiful bridge. “Nice sentiment/Not this again” they say in sync over a ringing synth. Another part of the song’s magic lies in its vocals. Conor’s voice creates such a parallel with Phoebe’s that she sounds as young as she did in her earliest recorded music. “Exception to the Rule” may be the weakest track on Better Oblivion Community Center, but it is certainly enjoyable.
TRACK 6: Chesapeake
And now, we adjourn to side B of the album, which contains nearly all my favourites. Chesapeake opens with a simple acoustic guitar and Oberst and Bridgers harmonizing about concerts, musicians, and life experiences. “My hero plays to no one/In a parking lot” they croon, speaking of the entertainment industry and finding inspiration in the most unexpected places. More of my all-time favourite lyrics can be found in “Chesapeake”, specifically in its differing choruses: “I was all covered in the sound/Ear plugs so it wasn’t loud/Swallowed up by the crowd/Didn’t know what they were singing about” perfectly captures that feeling of horrendous sensory overload at concerts. It’s a little ironic that I felt that at Phoebe’s concert here in June. Still, there’s nothing better than an artist who can relate to your experience.
TRACK 7: My City
An unpopular favourite, “My City” definitely isn’t the greatest song on the album. However, its charm still overtakes you. A kick drum paired with a picking pattern does strange things to my brain. It is here where we get an unusual occurrence with Better Oblivion; melody shining over lyrics. “My City” has some meaningful lyrics, but they are lost in a sea of on-the-nose metaphors and repeating wordplay. The couplet of “Looking bad like those Vegas odds/Wear a smile like it’s camouflage” is only saved by a light belt from Bridgers. This weak-wording-saved-by-nice-vocals pattern is also found at the end; “Risk it all on the game of chance/Chasing love like an ambulance.” It is better than the former pair, but not by much. But, much to my satisfaction, I can ignore some mediocre lyrics for a good (if slightly boring) instrumentation.
TRACK 8: Forest Lawn
In “Forest Lawn,” we find the twin fantasy of “Service Road.” Oberst takes the lead vocals of this song and most of the following two tracks. He sings of an unnamed person who “used to sing with a straight face Que Sera, Sera.” Slight clattering bells and a haunting guitar accompany a harmony from Bridgers in the latter half of the song. As if this song could somehow be more melancholy, “Forest Lawn” shoulders the resemblance to something else. Not only does the song share meaning with an earlier track, but it also shares a name with a cemetery–Forest Lawn Cemetery is in Nebraska, also known as Oberst’s home state. When I discovered this fact, it all became clear – the person he is singing of who “went underground” is his brother. They dreamed of “sleeping side by side,” but he has been left alone. “Forest Lawn” is chilling, haunting, and an awfully personal standout.
TRACK 9: Big Black Heart
BOCC’s penultimate track has a lot to say. The only love song on the LP, “Big Black Heart” glistens like no other. The verses talk of a partner “slowing down time” for the narrators, changing their lives. The choruses shift to mention an eventual betrayal, from “I thought you’d stopped the world” to “I guess I thought you could stop the world.” A beating drum takes us into an ear-shattering section full of shouted vocals, distorted guitar, and lyrics dripping with regret. “Alright, alright, now/Don’t wanna think about it/I’m fine with hiding out,” they say. It’s honest and beautiful, but mostly jarring. It tosses you out of its soundscape, sending you tumbling right into the next and final track of Better Oblivion Community Center: “Dominos.”
TRACK 10: Dominos
“Can you hear the crickets? All I hear is crickets. Like a river. Shining through the edges of my sight. The sky is pitch black, dark. Yet somehow really peaceful. At the same time.” Conor Oberst takes us through the introduction of BOCC’s finale. Backed by a haunting, ethereal guitar, his words ring out in tinny echoes. The tremors in his singing voice don’t translate to his speaking. Maybe the vulnerability of his music makes him unsteady. He sings us through a cacophony of found sounds, birds, helicopters, and more of Bridgers’ backing. “I can hear a voice, but it’s speaking code” is interrupted by another spoken voice, this time saying something about poured concrete. I am ashamed to admit that I did not know this was not an original. I only discovered this five minutes before writing this section of the review. Hearing Taylor Hollingsworth’s original, I can tell exactly why they picked this for their closer. While it’s a bold move to use a song cover to finish off an album, Better Oblivion makes Hollingsworth’s chillingly gorgeous version into something new (and no hate to him, but much better). Maybe it’s just seeing it at the end of the album on Spotify, but “Dominos” makes me feel the end. It is tangible. I feel as if I can cradle it in my hands. Things are ending, but only for now.
i’m sure you can tell that i’m not a music critic. yes, i enjoy critical analysis, but this is in no way a critical article. i live and breathe this album. i am going to go home today, and i am going to listen to better oblivion on cd, and i am going to be still. i love this band. i hope anyone reading this might learn to love them too.