Last year, Conor Oberst set aside his long-standing Bright Eyes moniker and made a run for the border, decamping to a Mexican mountainside to record his first album under his own name. Conor Oberst was laid-back folk rock in love with the road and far from Bright Eyes' rep for indoors-y shame sharing. Now, Oberst is covering more unknown territory by splitting songwriting duties for the first time in his 15-year career. Written on tour with the band he took to Mexico, these 16 songs are full of the freewheeling possibility and, at times, errant indulgence you can get when bros hang out in hotel rooms passing around guitars and massaging each other's muses. Even the drummer gets two cuts.

Oberst's songwriting has always been first–thought–best–thought, so the loose communal vibe usually fits nicely. On "Slowly (Oh So Slowly)," an ode to taking it easy that the Eagles might appreciate, Oberst lounges in a swimming pool languidly watching life pass by. Fans of Bright Eyes' white-knuckled miserablism might find that image of suntanned bliss about as likely as Jay-Z rolling around in a used Pinto. But there's still introspective angst here, from the scared lover's acoustic plea "White Shoes" to the apocalyptic lefty rant "Roosevelt Room."

No one in the Mystic Valley Band is an undiscovered genius, but no one is a charity case either; guitarist Nik Freitas' rollicking country paean to paranoia, "Big Black Nothing," and guitarist Taylor Hollingsworth's speedy indie-pop ode to van sex, "Air Mattress," could even be decent Bright Eyes throwaways. Predictably, however, this six-piece are best at backing their boss with a road-seasoned mix of meaty jangle and whirring Sixties-Dylan organ. They're also pretty good at proving what a nice guy he is. Many things may weigh on Conor Oberst's mind, but on this record, ego isn't one of them.