Few songwriters are as prolific and profound as Conor Oberst. In fact, it was his album I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning that first convinced me of the power of a songwriter and an acoustic guitar (and turned me from a punk rocker to a folk singer for a few years in college).

Outside of his work with Bright Eyes, though, nothing has grabbed me. Desaparecidos was a great punk band, but that’s never what I listen to him for. The one-off supergroup Monsters of Folk was a supreme disappointment (apart from “Dear God”). The Mystic Valley Band was pleasant enough, but failed to make much of an impression.

But then there’s Better Oblivion Community Center, his songwriting duo with the equally profound and prolific Phoebe Bridgers, which is his best work in almost a decade.

I’m almost ashamed though to say that this record is my introduction to Bridgers, and so I can’t quite pinpoint her signature moves as readily as Oberst’s. But even through that lens, this is far from a “Bright Eyes, feat.” album.

Sonically, Better Oblivion Community Center plays a little straighter than most Bright Eyes albums, which always infused folk and country influences with a healthy dose of experimentation (I’m Wide Awake notwithstanding). Most of the tracks feature a tradition Nashville-studio instrumentation—acoustic guitars, drums and bass, some glassy leads, the occasional piano. Every so often, synthesizers whirr in the atmosphere (or drive the rhythm, as in the Digital Ash-esque “Exception To The Rule“). But apart from those rare accoutrements and Oberst’s decidedly unconventional voice, this record is almost as straight Americana as Tom Petty or Fleetwood Mac.

“I Didn’t Know What I Was In For” opens the record with a near-whisper, Phoebe’s light voice ruminating on her capacity to get in over her head: she barely finishes a cancer-benefit marathon, she checks herself into a mental hospital, she watches refuges helplessly on cable news. Conor’s shaky voice joins in unison underneath, the two voices melding together like honey and gravel. It’s an unexpected sonic marriage, but it works better than you’d expect.

“Sleepwalkin’” finds them trading verses, punctuated by heavy, “impossible to count” chord hits and a thick fuzz guitar solo (think more Wilco than the Melvins). “Dylan Thomas” is a straightforward folk rocker rich with literary and political references: “so sick of being honest, I’ll die like Dylan Thomas: a seizure on the barroom floor”these talking heads are saying the king is only playing a game of four-dimensional chess;” “I’m taking a shower at the Bates Motel.”

Side B opens with the hauntingly gorgeous, “Chesapeake,” a tender ballad looking back on a childhood memory of a rock concert and a cover of “Sweet Child of Mine,” the erstwhile rocker now languishing in obscurity. The second to last track “Big Black Heart” offers the greatest rip on the sound of the record, it’s final moments exploding with an emotional punk catharsis and huge walls of distortion. Odd, considering the powerhouse songwriting by the group’s duo, is the decision to end the record with “Dominos,” a track penned by Mystic Valley Band member Taylor Hollingsworth.

At first blush, Better Oblivion Community Center might seem like either an understated folk record or a cash-grab intended to maximize the streaming revenue of its two already-fruitful songwriters. However, after letting the record unfold, it’s revealed itself to be an incredibly rich and rewarding piece of songwriting, paired with top notch arrangements. It’s a shining gem in the careers of two already-esteemed songwriters. Now if someone will kindly tell me where to get started with Phoebe’s own catalog…