Rewind! It’s 2004: there’s still hope George W. Bush won’t be voted back into office in the fall and the explosion is not in the housing market, but in the oppressively large number of Pokémon to be counted, caught and collected. Down in Omaha, NE, Bright Eyes, the musical vehicle driven mainly by Conor Oberst, a self-described, “boy in the basement with a 4-track machine,” meets someone an act almost as small, as lonely as it: Neva Dinova. The two collaborate on a split-EP called One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels and the critical world yawns.
Well, perhaps “yawns” is too harsh of a world. allmusic said that the album was, “more focused and thoughtful than many collaborations between musicians that are also friends,” reviewer Heather Phares said in 2004. Her closing remark seemed to lightly suggest a fundamental issue I had with the album when I heard it the first time, “One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels is hopefully the start of a beautiful musical friendship between Oberst and Bellows.” As in, this is great, but—wait, it’s over?
That’s no small complaint for an album that was just over 21 minutes long. Granted, a lot happens in those 21 minutes: we’re dissimulating in “Poison,” midst a ruined relationship in “Get Back,” and bouncing along, coked out, to horns in “I’ll Be Your Friend.” But, the mere length of the record puts that much more pressure on those 21 minutes to produce and satisfy, and the songs don’t always fare well under such pressure. “I’ll Be Your Friend,” plays off cool and syrupy, but seems almost too sweet under both keyboard and saxophone parts. Jake Bellows sounds like he’s ready for a nap in “Get Back.”
Also, while a lot does happen in those 21 minutes, the mood is fairly homogenous: somber, self-deprecating, narcotic melancholy. Conor is unsure from the beginning, and Jake almost the older brother figure sure of the doom. This is a pretty typical manifestation of what culture then—and maybe still—would dismiss as emo.
But, that’s not to say that the record doesn’t have a lot to offer still. The folk/country laden-rock that would become Bright Eyes primary mode of expression for years to come was getting full form in Vessels. Also, the record does have moments where the narrators seem to snap out of their melancholic demure, as at the end of “Poison” where Jake challenges, “destroy yourself/ what the fuck?” If it’s not a happy album, it’s an honest one, but that doesn’t always amount to sad-depressed-emo. Truly, there are more appropriate records to cry to.
Fast forward! 2010: Saddle Creek reissues Vessels with four new tracks from the two outfits. Wait a minute, Heather; there’s more. Jake opens the record this time with “Rollerskating,” a National-esque roller with Neva Dinova exploring a very Flock-of-Seagulls sound, and does the muddy, drunken “Someone’s Love.” Conor returns from the badlands of Mexico and the Mystic Valley to play “Happy Accident,” a story of a failed attempt to translate emotions into economies, and maybe the best new addition to Vessels. They blend with the old material, but definitely boast a more mature sound than their predecessors.
Perhaps the last incarnation was a little short, a little shy. But there is something nearly emblematic and archetypal about the sound. It is truly a photographic snapshot and homage to an earlier time of indie rock. Before lo-fi, before the keyboard came back, it was a guy and guitar. Not to romanticize about it, for its time has truly passed and we’re all much the better for it, but it still exists as something we as listeners and artists have inherited. No where is this more evident than in “Spring Cleaning,” where Conor and Jake put the album to sleep in a closer that rocks and glows just as much now as it did in 2004.
