I really liked this record. I thought it was one of the best records of last year, even though I know – I know! – that half the songs were repeats from a previous record. Conor Oberst’s writing has always spoken to me, because apparently I’m a little angst-rat deep down inside, and now I like that he has something to say about growing up and being not quite disgruntled in middle age, but at least pensive about it. He’s still young, of course, and fans like me who grew up with his records are even younger. But you can’t carry on throughout life repeating the same angst. You would look stupid. You have to find some new angst. Surprisingly enough, finding yourself more mature and less dumb than you used to be is angst-making in and of itself for a lot of people. It seems that lots of us get very used to our lives being an ongoing garbage fire and it’s disconcerting to realize that it’s not. I mean, I suppose that it must be. My life is still a smoldering garbage fire.

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