Flight WS662 from Calgary to Toronto (Part 2)

While Kelly indulges in a chick flick, I’m switching off on the Canadiana for the time being and tuning in to some Dad Rock instead with the ‘Upside Down Mountain‘  album by Conor Oberst.


This 2014 album ( a debut album with Nonesuch Records) is definitely some of Oberst’s best work.  It represents a sumptuous immersion in 70’s California folk pop, and is the most immediately charming album he has ever made and as its title implies, it’s a real study in contrasts, a glance up to the heavens and a glimpse into the abyss.

Co-producer Jonathan Wilson, playing and leading a Laurel Canyon big band’s worth of guitars and keyboards, frames the wreckage and Oberst’s wishfulness like a younger David Lindley.  That earthy luxury is also lined with gripping unease: the prickly electronics in the soft buoyancy of ‘Time Forgot‘; the Nashville-via-Tijuana noir of ‘Artifact #1‘; the disruptive drum crash, like a slammed door, in ‘Double Life‘.  Easily the most charming song on the album – hence my “Dad Rock” label – is ‘You Are Your Mother’s Child‘.  But like Neil Young‘s ‘Harvest’  and Jackson Browne‘s ‘Late for the Sky’, this is dreaming stalked by despair, then charged with rebound. “There are hundreds of ways,” Oberst sings in that song, “to get through the day. . . . Now you just find one.”

Here’s a good place to start.


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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