The People's Key Free MP3, Song Download, Lyrics, Album Track List

The People's Key

PLAY
QUEUE

Play The People's Key

Song	Lyrics	Save	Buy
PLAY QUEUE 1 Firewall		save
PLAY QUEUE 2 Shell Games		save
PLAY QUEUE 3 Jejune Stars		save
PLAY QUEUE 4 Approximate Sunlight		save
PLAY QUEUE 5 Haile Selassie		save
PLAY QUEUE 6 A Machine Spiritual (In The People's Key)		save
PLAY QUEUE 7 Triple Spiral		save
PLAY QUEUE 8 Beginner's Mind		save
PLAY QUEUE 9 Ladder Song		save
PLAY QUEUE 10 One For You, One For Me		save

MOG Editorial Review

Conor Oberst busied himself with ensemble players in the Mystic Valley Band and formed Monsters of Folk, but both may have been too folksy for diehard Bright Eyes fans. Luckily, The People’s Key picks up where the spiritually titled Cassadaga left off, though songs like “Haile Selassie,” he’s drawing from Rastafarian mysticism this time. Perhaps possessed by the cosmos that are the focal point of the narratives bookending the album, Oberst has tapped into the emotionally charged musician he was before the Americana tags got thrown his way. “Ladder Song,” a simple piano ballad that lets his trademark quivering voice shine, is especially reminiscent of the Lifted days, while “Beginner’s Mind” gets sweetly nostalgic for youth. “Jejune Stars” is an up tempo folk-rocker that finds Oberst moodily speeding along as if bidding adieu to the Bright Eyes namesake. If this is how he says goodbye, there’s not much room for complaining.
AMG Review of People's Key

Stephen Thomas Erlewine
All Music Guide

Returning to Bright Eyes after a three-year solo-ish sojourn, Conor Oberst switches gears for The People’s Key, downshifting from the rustic canyon rock of the Mystic Valley Band so he can ride a moody modern rock vibe not too dissimilar from Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. Passing resemblances aside, The People’s Key is quite different in tone and tenor than Digital Ash, the somewhat tempered corrective to the self-styled major statement I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning. Like the Mystic Valley albums before them, The People’s Key is deliberately not designed as a major statement; perhaps it possesses recurrent themes -- spirituality drifts through the album, often taking shape in vague Rastafarian sentiments; the album is bookended by murmured recitations that play like library finds, not spoken truths -- but the album lacks heft. Generally, the songs are concise -- the opener and closer flirt with seven minutes but that’s all due to the elongated narrations -- driven by melody and bearing nicely textured arrangements that leave plenty of space for analog synths lifted from the early days of MTV. Disregarding the lyrics -- something that is not easy or necessarily optimal with Oberst, who is continuing to whittle away his overwritten excesses -- The People’s Key is Bright Eyes’ poppiest record by some measure, trading anthems with the weight of America on their shoulders for sculptured miniatures. Perhaps it lacks ballast and gestalt, but Bright Eyes arguably operates better on a smaller scale, trading pretension for fractured pop that cuts into the cranium with skewed precision.