I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

1	At the Bottom of Everything 4:34
2	We Are Nowhere and It's Now 4:12
3	Old Soul Song For the New World Order 4:29
4	Lua 4:31
5	Train Under Water 6:05
6	First Day of My Life 3:08
7	Another Travelin' Song 4:16
8	Land Locked Blues 5:47
9	Poison Oak 4:39
10	Road to Joy 3:54

Barnes & Noble

Not many songwriters can channel the spirit of Gram Parsons one moment and borrow a few tricks from Ludwig van Beethoven the next, but few have the sort of nerve that seems to come so naturally to Bright Eyes ringmaster Conor Oberst. He's called in a wide array of collaborators this time around, including My Morning Jacket singer Jim James -- whose reedy tenor provides an eerie counterpoint to the sepulchral "At the Bottom of Everything." More intriguing are Oberst's duets with Emmylou Harris -- three of 'em in all -- that range from blatantly Dylan-esque (the rambling "Landlocked Blues") to stridently anti-folk (the acerbic "Wide Awake"). Even with all the help, however, Oberst manages to maintain full control of the proceedings -- in part because he's become increasingly accomplished as a singer and in part because he's toned down his verbosity enough to allow his words to actually sink in. That's particularly true on the disc's polar opposite highlights: "Lua," a sparse, chilly ballad on which Oberst deals with a destructive, drug-addled romance, and "First Day of My Life," a surprisingly raw-boned workingman's lament. True to its title, this disc is as eye-opening as a sonic journey gets. David Sprague

All Music Guide

Last time around, Conor Oberst -- who for all intents and purposes, is Bright Eyes -- shoved all of his interests into one long, overstuffed epic, but with the simultaneously I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, he separates the country-rock on the former and the messy modernistic indie rock on the latter, as if to counter the criticisms that he can't focus. I'm Wide Awake is designed as a nakedly honest singer/songwriter album, somewhat inspired by the classics of the genre in the '70s -- he even recruits Emmylou Harris for some harmonies, hoping that some of the Gram Parsons' magic will rub off. Stripped of the careening, dramatic, arrangements of Lifted, Oberst's music seems simpler, and while his voice -- a quavering bleat that's halfway between Feargal Sharkey and the Dead Milkmen's Rodney Anonymous -- is an acquired taste; fans will find this to be his most direct album yet. Stephen Thomas Erlewine

Rolling Stone

A masterpiece of country-flavored heartland angst. Rob Sheffield