Corporate Rock

Photo by Bill Sitzman

But then there’s Desaparecidos. Hailing from the heart of Middle America (Omaha, Nebraska), this five-piece of kids in their early 20s are making the kind of urgent and huge power pop/punk rock that could really, you know, make a difference.

Their debut record, Read Music/Speak Spanish, would have been a huge godsend to me at the age of fifteen, when I was ripe for catchily worded and heavily played music about how fucked up American culture is. I may be a thoroughly radical-politics-ed out twenty-six-year-old, but I’m still all giddy when I hear Desaparecidos rip through a song like “The Happiest Place on Earth,” in which singer Conor Oberst says, “I wanna pledge allegiance to the country where I live. I don’t wanna be ashamed to be American.” In fact, this album should be handed out for free every September to American middle-schoolers. In ten years, a free Read Music/Speak Spanish public-schools program could have us all living in a liberal, free-love, no-more-corporations utopia!

“It’s weird to be critiquing culture, because as an American, you’re by default involved in the bullshit of it all,” says Conor, the twenty-one-year-old leader of Desaparecidos. Conor, even at his tender age, is already a veteran of the independent music world. He’s well-known as the boy behind Bright Eyes, a warm and fussy folk -prodigy project. But while Bright Eyes’ music is a whole different genre and its lyrics focus on affairs of the heart, Desaparecidos is a group with a more populist agenda. Conor’s fixations on this album, the things that he sounds really pissed off about, are urban sprawl, corporate juggernauts, and the slow psychic death of the mandatory 9 to 5 job.

The members of Desaparecidos have known each other forever. Bassist Ian is not only Conor’s cousin, but also his “best friend in the world.” Guitarist and primary riff-writer Denver has known Conor since the fourth grade. “Conor and I met at a children’s theater acting guild,” laughs Denver.

The intimacy of the band members probably explains in large part the tightness and force that they put into their four-minute manifestos. Heavily influenced by bands with titanic and hooky sounds (Weezer, The Pixies, Fugazi), Desaparecidos is almost like roots music for Americans in their early 20s. “For me, it’s a return to the kind of music I was into several years ago,” says Conor.

If Read Music/Speak Spanish doesn’t make you dust off your copy of No Logo, it’s at least going to seduce you musically — whether you’re sipping on a Starbucks latte or brewing your own from organically-grown beans.

Read Music/Speak Spanish is out now on Saddle Creek Records.