Conor Oberst - Salutations

Drowned In Sound 90

Thing is, though, Salutations is an absolute treat. What’s more, it makes for a completely different kind of listening experience from Ruminations - quite the achievement, given that over half of its songs can be found on the earlier set. Where that collection of songs was so stripped-down as to sometimes be uncomfortable, this one is bathed in warmth; all fuzzy, blown-out speakers and production equal parts lush and scrappy. Ruminations was solitude in the frozen Midwest, the product of a bleak Nebraskan winter; Salutations was recorded by a tight group of friends and musicians on the balmy coast of California. Right down to its silly typography, sun-drenched artwork, occasionally flipped lyrics - and most obviously its title - it is the inverse of Oberst’s 2016 set in every way, and it succeeds both as that record’s sunnier, more outward-looking counterpart as much as it does on its own terms: as a collection of vibrant, fantastic songs.

The sound of the record is really something. Co-produced by the singer and Jim Keltner - who occupies Number 38 on Rolling Stone magazine’s 100 Greatest Drummers of All Time and is named by Oberst the project’s 'spiritual leader' - Salutations features a raft of contributions from Oberst’s ever-expanding cadre of collaborators, including backing vocals from Jim James, Maria Taylor, Gillian Welch and Pearl Charles to turns on the guitar from M. Ward, Blake Mills and Jonathan Wilson. Members of the Section Quartet provide strings, and all involved work off a sturdy rhythm section made up of Keltner himself and longtime friends of Oberst - who also happen to be his favourite band - the Felice Brothers. The LP comes alive on headphones, wherein the delicate interplay on ‘Gossamer Thin’, the sandpaper crunch of ‘Overdue’, the loose, billowing propulsion to ‘Afterthought’ - or any number of examples, really - make for a sound that is addictively different from anything in Oberst’s catalogue thus far.

Perhaps as a by-product of being largely made up of songs a lot of fans will already be familiar with, its generous running time (17 tracks weighing in at nearly 70 minutes) feels just about right rather than overlong. Introspection is wrought via tunes like the breathtakingly lovely ‘Mamah Borthwick (A Sketch)’, ‘Next of Kin’ and ‘Rain Follows the Plow’, while ‘A Little Uncanny’ and ‘Napalm’ feature the kind of righteous, withering sarcasm that would fit right in on a Desaparecidos album. Though it opens and closes with intent, Salutations makes sense in just about any order in which you care to listen to it, and counts some of Oberst’s finest songs in recent memory among its number.

‘Empty Hotel by the Sea’, a deft character study of the kind Oberst is becoming increasingly adept at, is one of those songs. A compelling, evocative thing, it comes on like a darker Coen Brothers offering or a frazzled Denis Johnson short story compressed into four and a half minutes, replete with sometimes beautiful, often violent imagery and a denouement that, for all its inevitability, hits like a gut punch. ‘Overdue’ is a belter too, Oberst cataloguing the increasingly desperate goings-on inside a drug den in a manner that recalls songs like John K. Samson’s ‘17th Street Treatment Centre’ and the Mountain Goats’ ‘Lakeside View Apartments Suite’ in its frank acknowledgement of addiction. That’s not to mention the Ruminations tunes, all variously burnished by strings, accordion, surges of noise and twinkling electric guitar.

Since 2005’s I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, music critics have been keen to point out Oberst’s supposed newfound ‘maturity’ with each subsequent release, in what seems to me fairly lazy shorthand for the fact that artistically he never stays in the same place for very long. There are constants, sure; in a recent Talkhouse podcast featuring the singer and the National’s Matt Berninger the two discussed various elements of how they approach the art of songwriting, Oberst noting how he would always rather take a risk on a line that might later prove embarrassing if it feels right and fits the emotion of the song.

That says a lot about the type of honesty he strives for, I think. It’s perhaps what sticks in some listeners’ craws, too, but that creative restlessness, that unabashed sincerity - and that willingness to go out on a limb - is what makes his music so relatable, and often so special. Salutations is full of songs that fit that mould, whether they depict bereavement, substance abuse, anger at the status quo or simply offer hope in the form of human connection. It’s the sound of a gifted songwriter comfortable with his craft and in his own skin, offering glinting new facets to earlier sounds and the songs present on Ruminations, and it makes for a subtle, yet striking departure from everything that came before.

The Guardian 80

(Nonesuch)

Last October’s Ruminations comprised intimate solo versions of 10 songs Conor Oberst had initially planned to record with a full band. Five months on, and those fleshed-out versions – recorded with the Felice Brothers and drummer Jim Keitner, and boosted by a further seven tracks – now follow. In some instances, the fuller arrangements have a transformative effect: in particular, Counting Sheep’s newfound warmth offsets much of its lyrical bleakness. Elsewhere, the rebooted Tachycardia and A Little Uncanny lose none of the originals’ power. Of the new songs, meanwhile, the propulsive riff of Napalm makes like Highway 61 Revisited, while the outwardly chirpy Anytime Soon is laced with regret. Overall, Salutations might be slightly sprawling and lack a little of the focus of Ruminations, but it makes for a highly enjoyable companion piece.

Pitchfork 66

Last year’s Ruminations was like no Conor Oberst album before it, and hopefully, none to come. Performed entirely solo, released with little fanfare and bearing a distressing, cabin-fever ambience, it offered the first and final word on a once-unspeakably rough time in his life. Ruminations was Oberst’s strongest record in years, but no one would want him to make it a second time. Less than six months later, Salutations is an even more curious move. Oberst re-recorded all 10 songs with a full band and a host of guests, added seven new ones and hit shuffle—a decision that drags Salutations down and bring its predecessor along with it.

After a series of lesser-loved guises—inscrutable mystic, folk-rock yeoman—Oberst has found a more interesting and sustainable point of view. A kind way of putting it would be “world-weary raconteur.” Perhaps a more accurate way would be “kind of an asshole.” The prospect of hearing another dude do this for about 70 minutes is a hard sell at a time when Father John Misty, Drake, Mark Kozelek, and Future have released approximately 9 hours of music in the past year that wearily postulates from a position of privilege on their dissatisfaction with sex, drugs, and everyone outside of their immediate circle. The difference here is that Oberst only hops on a pedestal for the purpose of knocking himself down.

In his post-poster boy phase, Oberst is no longer trapped by expectation or myth; he can play his past personas against each other. “Afterthought” and “Overdue” respectively caricature the roles he played on his 2005 diptych of protest song and smack-addled narcolepsy, presenting the narrator as someone for whom extreme politics and heroin are just another fix. On the opener “Too Late to Fixate,” he half-asses his way through transcendental meditation only to find serenity in the luxuries of a hotel feather bed and a mistress to lay upon it: “You know I don’t mind the money/It beats betting on sports/And though it might get expensive/It’s cheaper than divorce.”

These aren’t new topics for Oberst, but he’s never been this flat-out funny, providing a necessarily salty and bitter edge as he reverts back to the tasteful roots rock that has defined his past decade. This approach reflects of Oberst’s status as a Nonesuch recording artist who hangs out with the Felice Brothers and Dawes, but it also shows the dividing line between “crowd pleaser” and “cult builder.” Though Ruminations was the inverse of the fire-breathing agitpop of his band Desaparecidos’ 2015 LP Payola, both serve as proof of the extreme measures necessary to steer Oberst away from the middle of the road—where Salutations spends well over an hour.

The most rewarding records of this length carry a mutual assumption of risk. Listeners will indulge the occasional faceplant as long as the artist is making an attempt to reach new personal heights. Though Salutations is one of Oberst’s most demanding albums, it’s also one of his least ambitious, even before taking these new arrangements into account. The righteous indignation of “You All Loved Him Once” was devastating when it was Oberst alone; recast now as “Oberst and the Felice Brothers against the world,” it’s less believable. “Counting Sheep” dulls its edge in the most literal way imaginable: On Ruminations, Oberst mused on the death of two local youths, hoping it was both slow and painful while censoring out their names. He actually reveals them here, but changes the lyric to “Hope it was quick, hope it was peaceful.”

Even if Ruminations is now rendered a collection of demos, it was unquestionably an album—thematically and sonically coherent and perfectly sequenced. Salutations muddles that. On Ruminations, “You All Loved Him Once” was the penultimate track, settling scores. And it led into “Till St. Dymphna Kicks Us Out,” which implored those who stuck around to forget old memories and make new ones. The latter is now stuck right in the middle of Salutations and this diminishes the song’s effect. (Just imagine if Oberst had lost his nerve in 2005 and recorded the caustic electro-pop of Digital Ash as folk songs and slapped them onto I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning.) From a songwriting standpoint, Salutations is an undeniable triumph—for people who haven’t heard Ruminations yet. If they exist, I envy them.