I have not listened to Fevers & Mirrors in ten years. I’ve continued to play some of the other Bright Eyes records over the years, but this one somehow has just felt wrong. I was never an emo kid in the having-side-bangs sense, but like a lot of sensitive kids, my formative years were blighted by alienation, and in my early 20’s I spent a lot of sad evenings getting ugly drunk to the shoegaze poetry of Conor Oberst. Many of those songs I am now able to untangle from those particular memories and I appreciate them for the writing. I love the lyrics, and though many people are turned off by Oberst’s quavery voice, I love that too. Sometimes, I like remembering what it felt like to be that young and emotional. But this record, it just zooms me too quickly and too hard into memories of being 22, 23, 24 and those – the years that are supposed to be everyone’s best years – were not good years. They were not the worst years, but in hindsight they were the saddest, because I thought that I was happy and living a good life. But perhaps everyone thinks they’re having a good time while they sustain damages they don’t know they’re going to have to learn to live with for the rest of their lives.