If I was 14, I don’t know if I would have liked nearly how noisy and gritty Desaparecidos are, as I already preferred the introspective and (while still emotionally raw) mostly quiet work of Bright Eyes. There were exceptions to this point in my life, The Used’s brand of screamo among them, but I liked my noise well-produced and usually poppy. Now, while I still love Conor Oberst’s whispers, my own musical inclinations have driven me toward songs that I don’t have to max out my headphones to catch all of. (I think it has something to do with my love for dancing.)

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