This time Oberst leased out valuable album real estate to his Mystic Valley Band-mates Nik Fritas, Taylor Hollingsworth and Jason Boesel, who each wrote and sang a couple tracks a piece—a kind gesture, but a misguided one, given that none of the trio are memorable songwriters. Of all the complaints leveled at Oberst's last album—too tepid, too static, too James Taylor-ish—too much Oberst wasn't one of them. How does having the drummer from Rilo Kiley fill in for a couple songs fix anything?

At least the tracks that Oberst didn't outsource are much improved from the last record. The philosophical platitudes of last year's self-titled album have been replaced with Oberst's incendiary, Christian-baiting wit, and similarly the music itself has a little more fight to it, too. But there will always be a ceiling on Oberst's songs so long as he sticks with the Mystic Valley Band's standard-issue country-rock. Tellingly, the album's best song, "White Shoes," does away with the backing band altogether. A refreshing return to the quivering, over-reverbed intimacy of vintage Bright Eyes, it's sadly out of place on a record filled with boilerplate twang.

Does somebody need to sit Oberst down and give him the "difference between an album and a collection of songs" lecture? Maybe Tim Kasher could volunteer. Another Saddle Creek alum that's stumbled over the past half decade, Kasher just released with Cursive a fantastic disc that works as an album. Mama, I'm Swollen is rich with reoccurring lyrical themes and musical motifs and, most importantly, driven by a real sense of purpose. Oberst's Outer South, though, is just a collection of songs, and not a particularly good one, either.