For the Record

Author: Melissa Marshall

There is something horribly poetic about the autumn months. Maybe it's the clear October nights. Or perchance it's the crisp breeze, the "wind scurrying scarlet dry leaves like they were dust." But most likely (spoken like a true emo-child), autumn attributes its elegiac nature to its ability to conjure up images of our own mortality. Whatever the reason - romantic evenings or dying trees - fall seems to capture verse. And while we worship Whitman and adore Auden, there are also some contemporary rhymesters whose plaintive poetics make a stunning autumnal soundtrack.

There are the obvious established lyricists like Dylan (whose epics still invite interpretation after countless spins) and Morrison (even though Jim sometimes sounds more like a rambling drunk than a poet); however, a new generation of versifiers have risen to the task of setting words to a nation's melancholy meanderings. Conor Oberst, Colin Meloy, Jeff Mangum and Will Robison - armed with acoustic guitars and fountain pens - are putting the "muse" back in "music."

The young Nebraskan Conor Oberst, thanks to his mastery of complex rhymes and long ballads, has been repeatedly compared to Dylan. As the musical vehicle for the band Bright Eyes, Oberst continually releases albums that play more like anthologies of free verse than Indie pop. Their third full-length release, Fevers and Mirrors, features track after track of inspired lyricism - tackling such mundane issues as heartbreak and loneliness and transforming them into something innovative and immortal. While Oberst's shivering vocals may take some time to adjust to, his earnest pleadings make the albums I'm Wide Awake and It's Morning and Letting Off the Happiness essential staples of any meditative collection.

If Conor Oberst is the Whitman of the music industry, then Colin Meloy of The Decemberists is its T.S. Eliot. Meloy shows no qualms about using vocabulary or entwining allusions into his lyrics that would go over the heads of most. And even though you may need a thesaurus when you sit down to listen to Castaway and Cutouts or Picaresque you can't deny Meloy's standing as a modern bard. His nine-minute long epic, "The Mariner's Revenge," is one of the finest examples of contemporary narrative that I've encountered, while the lyrics of such tracks as "Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect" and "The Engine Driver" are capable of generating nostalgia and sentiment as potently as any poem. Sure, The Decemberists may be more pretentious than the chatter at a Harvard trustee banquet, and they may entertain fantasies of living in the 17th century, but that cannot undermine Meloy's innate ability intricately and remarkably storytell.

It seems that in some circles The Decemberists and Neutral Milk Hotel are often mentioned in the same breath; however, Jeff Mangum doesn't often receive the same heraldry as Colin Meloy. Perhaps it's because Neutral Milk Hotel has only produced two full-length albums to The Decemberists' four. Or maybe it's because Mangum's voice (if at all possible) is more grating than Meloy's. In any event, Mangum possesses some powerful poetic prowess. On their brilliant February 1998 release, In an Aeroplane Over the Sea, Mangum keeps listeners on their toes with songs that are cryptic yet exquisite. I may never truly comprehend the motives behind such striking tracks as "Oh, Comely" or "Two-Headed Boy," but Eliot always did say, "A good poem communicates before it is understood."

Oberst, Meloy and Mangum are all relatively well known, while Robison of Okkervil River remains on the fringes of obscurity, and he is not a poet who should only be appreciated posthumously. Although they've had three full-length releases before Black Sheep Boy, I see this April 2005 release, which harbors recurring themes and metaphors, as their definitive work. His lyrics, following in the folk tradition, may be simple, but they are powerful nonetheless. "Song of Our So-Called Friend," one of the standout tracks, is a prime example of Robison's incredible ability to transcribe basic human emotions into effortless couplets.

So as you reach for your selected poems of Heaney or flip through your collection of Frost, set aside some time for Oberst or Meloy - whose verses perfectly complement the falling of leaves.