An Attempt To Tip the Scales

Did you expect it all to stop At the wave of your hand? Like the sun's just gonna drop If it's night you demand Well, in the dark we're just air So the house might dissolve Once we're gone, who's gonna care If we were ever here at all? Well, summer's gonna come It's gonna cloud our eyes again No need to focus when there's Nothing that's worth seeing So we trade for liquor for blood In an attempt to tip the scales I think you lost what you loved In that mess of details They seemed so important at the time Now you can't even recall Any names, faces, or lines It's more the feeling of it all Well, winter's gonna end I'm gonna clean these veins again So close to dying that I finally can start living Interviewer: Hi, we're back. This is Radio ---x. We're here with Conor Oberst of the band Bright Eyes. How are you doing, Conor? Conor: Fine, thanks. Just a little wet Interviewer: Oh, it's still coming down out there Conor: Yeah, I sorta had to run from the car Interviewer: Well, we are glad you made it. Now, your new album, Fevers and Mirrors, tell us a little bit about the title. I noticed there is a good deal of repeated imagery in the lyrics—fevers, mirrors, scales, clocks. Could you discuss some of this? Conor: Sure, let's see. The fever is— Interviewer: First, first, let me say that this is a brilliant record, man. We're really into it here at the station. We get a lot of calls it's really good stuff Conor: Thanks. Thanks a lot Interviewer: So, talk a little bit about some of the symbolism Conor: The fever? Interviewer: Sure Conor: Well, the fever is basically whatever ails you or oppresses you. It can be anything. In my case it's my neurosis, my depression... but I don't want to be limited to that. It's certainly different for different people. It's whatever keeps you up at night Interviewer: I see Conor: And the—and the mirror is like, as you might have guessed, self examination or reflection in whatever form. This could be vanity or self-loathing. I-I know I'm guilty of both Interviewer: That's interesting. Uh, how 'bout the scale? Conor: The scale is essentially our attempt to solve our problems quantitatively, through logic or rationalization. In my opinion it's often fruitless but, always—ah, not always. And the clocks and calendars, it's just time, our little measurements. It's always chasing after us Interviewer: It is, it is. Uh, how 'bout this Arienette? How does she fit into all of this? Conor: I prefer not to talk about it, in case she's listening Interviewer: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize she's a real person Conor: She's not. I made her up Interviewer: Oh, so she's not real Conor: Just as real as you or I Interviewer: I don't think I understand Conor: Neither do I, but after I grow up, I will, I mean—a lot—a lot of things are really unclear for me right now Interviewer: That's interesting. Now, you mentioned your depression Conor: No I didn't Interviewer: You're from Nebraska right? Conor: Yeah so Interviewer: Now let me know if I'm getting too personal, but it seems to me that there's a pretty dark past back there somewhere. What was it like for you growing up? Conor: Dark. Not really. Uh-actually, I had a great childhood. My parents were wonderful, I went to Catholic school. They had money so it was all... easy. But basically, I had everything I wanted handed to me Interviewer: Really. So some of the references like babies in bathtubs are not biographical? Conor: Well, I did have a brother that died in a bathtub. Drowned. Actually, I had five brothers that died that way Interviewer: Tahuh Conor: No, I'm serious. My mother drowned one every year for five consecutive years. They were all named Padraic, so that's-they all got one song Interviewer: Hm Conor: It's kind of like walking out a door and discovering it's a window Interviewer: But your music is certainly very personal Conor: Of course. I put a lot of myself into what I do. But it's like, being an author, you have to free yourself to use symbolism and allegory to reach your goal. And a-and a part of that is compassion, empathy for other people, and understanding their situations. So much of what I sing about comes from other people's experiences as well as my own. It shouldn't matter. The message is intended to be universal Interviewer: I see what you mean Conor: Can you make that sound stop please? Interviewer: Yes. And your goal? Conor: I don't know. Uh, create feelings, I guess. A song it never ends up the way you plan it Interviewer: That's funny you would say that. Do you think that— Conor: Do you ever hear things that aren't really there? Interviewer: I'm sorry, what? Conor: Nevermind. How long have you worked at this station? Interviewer: Oh, just a few minutes. Now, you mentioned empathy for others. Would you say that that is what motivates you to make the music you make? Conor: No, not really. It's really just a need for sympathy. I want people to feel sorry for me. I like to feel the burn of the audience's eyes on me when I'm whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone (From the side, two teenage thugs start swearing about the music, talking over the conversation.) Conor: When I was a kid I used to carry around this safety pin everywhere I went in my pocket and when people weren't paying enough attention to me I'd dig it into my arm until I started crying. Everyone would stop what they were doing and ask me what was the matter I guess I kind of liked that Interviewer: Really you're telling me you're doing all this for attention? Conor: No I hate it when people look at me I get nauseous. In fact I could care less what people think about me. Do you feel alright? Do you wanna dance? Interviewer: No I'm feeling sick Conor: I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours all over everyone I love Interviewer: So uh you're going to play something for us now. Is this a new song? Conor: Yeah but I haven't written it yet It's one I've been meaning to write called "A Song to Pass the Time." Interviewer: Oh, that's a nice title Conor: You should write your own scripts Interviewer: Yeah I know (Conor says from the side, "I kept singing today—It would be eeeeasyyy...")