Nebraskan wunderkind Conor Oberst writes songs so naked and heartfelt they make you feel like a voyeur just listening to them. This precocious singer-songwriter croons with the astonished intensity of a homeless Robert Smith singing for his supper. And his band's fourth album is every bit as lyrical, sprawling, and pretentious as its title. The production is notably brighter and crisper than previous efforts, with some songs, notably "Nothing Gets Crossed Out," lushly swathed in sweet-sounding strings.
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