Music Blog

words and photos by Alex Lewis

Conor Oberst's allure as a sad-eyed, heart-aching singer-songwriter has proven to be ageless. Regardless of whether that's still (or ever was) an accurate description of the Bright Eyes frontman, it's the image many of his fans will carry-on for the rest of their lives. It's been well over a decade since Bright Eyes first stormed childhood bedrooms across the country. With Oberst's disarming words and melodies front and center, the plain vulnerability of the band's music became intimately tied, mostly via connotation, to "emo" - a rock sub-genre (defined by an overbearing whiney quality, see Dashboard Confessional) whose rise in popularity paralleled Bright Eyes' ascension into indie-rock fame. Even though emo has been vanquished from most strains of contemporary pop music conversation, Bright Eyes haven't been able to completely escape the association.

But so much has happened for Oberst and Bright Eyes since their 1999 breakthrough record, Fevers and Mirrors. His songwriting has ventured into almost every page of the American folk-rock playbook. Honky-tonk, Americana, 70's-tinged classic rock. Oberst campaigned for John Kerry and Barack Obama alongside Bruce Springsteen and John Mellencamp. He also started a super group with Jim James (from My Morning Jacket) and M. Ward. As Oberst's profile expanded, Bright Eyes elevated itself into something huge, even cinematic. In most ways, the project couldn't be further from its attic-recording origins.

For instance, they unsurprisingly sold out the Crystal Ballroom on Saturday night and put on a huge rock show. They brought out a seven-member band, a big flashing light show, impeccably mixed live sound, and wrapped it all up with smooth flowing stage cues. Their set list followed a perfectly arched narrative that started with "Firewall", the opening track on The People's Key (Bright Eyes' new album), and ended with album closer "One For You, One For Me", all complete with interstitial found-sound recordings. In between, the band found the right balance between pushing their new album and playing old favorites. Accordingly, the massive crowd - that appeared comprised of an older demographic than I might have expected - cried out the words to two-thirds of the songs and for the other third, stood patient with arms-crossed hoping for another song from I'm Wide Awake It's Morning or maybe, with some luck, something from Lifted.

Although the rock n' roll sparkle and glam was exciting to a point, the transcendent moments of the evening were driven completely by Conor Oberst. For all their transformations over the past decade, Bright Eyes are still at their best when Oberst's vocals cut through the noise. The most powerful songs of the evening - "Poison Oak", "Ladder Song" - were the ones where he summoned, back hunched over the piano, his heart worn, purse-lipped croon. The source of the persistent emo image is probably this exactly and it's the band's greatest asset. The problem with The People's Key is that it contains so few of these moments (except for "Ladder Song"). Like much of their live show, it's washed out with walls and walls of sound, obscuring a vulnerability that has become so essential.

And yet Oberst's grave, fervent lyric book remains the beating heart of the project. Even if this is no longer the central identity of Bright Eyes, it's the very thing (the one thing) all those fans will hold dear for a long time. And, though he may not admit it, it seemed that Oberst knew all this quite well.  With hair swept purposefully across his forehead, delivering those bracing moments - resolute and all too honest.

Tagged: live review