Bright Eyes has set his sights on the afterlife. Or at least life after indie-rock.

You can't blame Conor Oberst in the second regard. After all, he's been penning notes from the underground most of his life. The singer-songwriter and guitarist began making records as a precocious tweener in Omaha some 15 years ago. Now -- at the ripe old age of 27 -- he's matured into a seasoned, fully fledged artist.

And he's begun to outgrow the precious, cloistered scene that spawned and held him dear. He's got a new manager, a better business plan and connections with major labels (though he's still affiliated with hometown imprint Saddle Creek). He just shot his first performance video. He's done The Tonight Show, for crying out loud. The indie crowd has to face the truth: Their little boy has grown up. And he's leaving home.

The first steps came with 2005's ambitious dual releases: The rootsy I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning and the electronic Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. Oberst's journey continues with Cassadaga, his seventh CD released under the Bright Eyes banner. This time, his band consists of longtime MVP multi-instrumentalist Mike Mogis and trumpet / keyboardist / arranger Nate Walcott, augmented by a long list of Omaha pals, Saddle Creek labelmates and indie-rock VIPs from bands like Sleater-Kinney and Tortoise. With a lineup like that, Cassadaga is hardly what you'd call a pop disc. But it is Oberst's most concise, consistent, compelling and coherent work in years, both in terms of style and quality.

This hour-long set of Americana and chamber-folk sets his raw-nerve troubadourism against artful sonics, lush strings and eerie woodwinds. There are a couple of countrified honkytonkers that could be Crazy Horse castoffs. There are some haunted waltzes and breezy ballads.

There's discordant soundscapery flecked with electronics and ghostly voices. There's even one song that seems to be about old flame Winona Ryder. It is mostly dark but not dreary. It is often moving but seldom maudlin. It's strongly crafted but rarely self-indulgent. Interestingly, most of it is not sung in the shivery warble that Oberst is known for.

Nowadays, he's got a smoother, more restrained and accessible voice. A new sound for his new incarnation, perhaps.

But Cassadaga primarily concerns itself with a more spiritual brand of transformation. The disc is named for a real Florida community of mediums, psychics and fortune tellers. "I'm going to Cassadaga to commune with the dead," Oberst tells us early on. And commune he does -- though not only with the spirit world. After years of looking inward, writing songs about his own self-destructive tendencies and heartbreak, Conor has begun to look outward. He doesn't like what he sees. These 13 tracks are laced with references to doom and tragedy, ghosts and coffins, holy wars and Hurricane Katrina, melting ice caps and "standing in the ashes at the end of the world."

Most of them are about love and loneliness, death and despair, alienation and identity and wanting to belong somewhere, anywhere. They are the words of a man who has lost his innocence. "I was a hopeless romantic," Conor confesses. "Now I'm just turning tricks."

We don't buy it -- though we suspect many of his old fans who are already accusing him of selling his soul to the music-biz devil will agree wholeheartedly.

But even if they're right, Cassadaga is still one helluva trick.

Track Listing:

1. Clairaudients (Kill or Be Killed)
2. Four Winds
3. If The Brakeman Turns My Way
4. Hot Knives
5. Make A Plan To Love Me
6. Soul Singer In A Session Band
7. Classic Cars
8. Middleman
9. Cleanse Song
10. No One Would Riot For Less
11. Coat Check Dream Song
12. I Must Belong Somewhere
13. Lime Tree