Mick Middles (From Warrington Guardian)

Mick Middles

He's the new, new Dylan! It's not a great position to be in. Past holders of this impossible honour have included many performers who immediately folded into obscurity. A few did slip the net and the glorious survivors include Ryan Adams, Bruce Springsteen, Jackson Browne and Donovan. All have developed legends of their own. None of them remotely resemble Dylan.

The latest recipient of the honour is Conor Oberst, AKA Bright Eyes. Once a band, Bright Eyes has taken two years to evolve into the singular form, albeit surrounded by notable musicians who include the great Emmylou Harris.

Although there are no reasons at all why an intelligent person should compare Bright Eyes to Bob Dylan. (People who do so are a lesser breed who call themselves 'rock journalists', wear overcoats in summer, are 40-plus years old, live alone in a flat with a cat and stacks of CDs. I once perfected this scenario...and the cat died).

There are, however, a number of curious reasons why Bright Eyes might stand comparison with Ryan Adams. Equally tousled of hair and scruffily bedenimed - actually, Conor doesn't quite perfect the disgustingly sub-student look to the utterly revolting level of Adams - they both have a built-in prolificacy that sees songs simply flowing from them. To this end, Bright Eyes has just released two albums simultaneously, one light and beautifully clothed, the other black and foreboding. Obviously, not unlike Adams in 2003. While these similarities may intrigue, there are actually vast differences in terms of the basic structure of song writing. Ryan Adams, as much as I have clutched his albums to my heart, is a master of the art of twisting overtly familiar licks into a slightly altered framework. This works to supreme effect. Adams, at his best, uses familiarity to provide lovely accessibility to his work. Who could forget the first listen to New York, New York, when the block chords of Pinball Wizard hurtled from the intro? Some people never forgave his audacity for that. Most did. Mainly because it was a great song from a great album.

Conor Oberst is a different animal entirely. He builds songs from scratch, often paying scant regard for tradition and, without doubt, strays as far away from the notion of 'classic rock' as it's possible to get without diverting into cultish unlistenability. On one of his new albums, I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, he even nods to Appalachian mountain folk while somehow maintaining a powerful sense of the contemporary. This is an album that is as word heavy as Dylan's Blood on the Tracks and, while it doesn't contain the mysticism of Dylan - who is surely in-touch with a higher force - the word-play is little short of astonishing.

He's not the new, new Dylan. But he is Bright Eyes and, one day, you will be able to glance at that phrase and not have Art Garfunkel's solemn and uninvited voice striking up at the back of your head and causing you to think of squashed rabbits.

Although Manchester and Liverpool often claim to be innovative capitals of music, I have to admit that, down in the mess of villages that gather under the name London...well, that's the place to look if you wish to catch a glimpse of something bold and new. And it is South London, and the areas beyond New Cross (Shoreditch, Catford etc) that are precisely where things appear to be bubbling under at this moment. Here you will find the disturbed waters in wake of The Libertines, where a new kind of accessibility is quickly forming. Bands such as The Othershave taken The Doherty / Libertines stance, of performing at events so low-key they are positively just parties, to the extreme.

Pledging an eternal state of friendship with their growing fan base, The Others have now started to move onto larger stages, but take great pains to invite all and sundry backstage for the big after show party. Their leader, Bristol-born Dominic Masters, fiercely states: "I have kids ringing me up all the time and they can be on the verge of despair. I will always make time to reply and treat them seriously. Some things are more important than some dumb pop star's career."

Oh so nave. Oh so blind. Remember these sentiments if and when The Others climb to prominence and barricade themselves within a movable encampment of elitism. It was 1979 when I heard the last person talking such tosh...and his name was Bono!