I used to love Conor Oberst because he helped feed my sadness. Feeling lonesome or just overall angst, I’d pop in any Bright Eyes disc and be swept away in my feelings of self-contempt, emotional emptiness or just consumed by my overall early 20-something girldom. I mean, sure, there were a few songs that weren’t necessarily sad, the more upbeat, folky dishwashing soundtrack—but overall, Conor was my self pity train. He was my doe-eyed, young indie genius crush. I had magazine tear-outs tacked behind my futon bed and I would lustily gaze at his photographs from Spin, Rolling Stone, or what have you, for hours on end. Well, eventually the inevitable happened—he grew up. And so did I.
Last night I wasn’t really sure or prepared for what I would witness at Chicago’s Metro when Conor Oberst brought along some friends from the Mystic Valley Band. Would there be some Desaparecidos moments? Probably not. Some sneak previews of Monsters of Folk? Who knows. BRIGHT EYES???? Well, no—not really. It was Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band, as promised. And while I won’t lie and say I wasn’t hoping for “Lua” or “Road to Joy” to make a guest appearance, I will say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself regardless. I have to admit, while I did pick up Conor’s October self-titled release, I wasn’t even aware of Outer South’s May release until 3 days ago—so going into this show, I knew a lot of the material would probably go over my head. But it was still Conor, so I was indebted anyhow.
Kicking things off right on the 10:00 pm mark, Oberst and crew started their alt-country party with “Moab.” Several additional tracks from the October release followed suit, including my faves “NYC-Gone, Gone,” “Souled Out,” “Sausalito” and the ridiculously super fun and upbeat “I don’t want to die (in a hospital).” I couldn’t tell you exactly which tracks from Outer South were accounted for, but I did listen enough to pick out “Nikorette,” which by the way, is damn near impossible to stand still for—with the piano/guitar layer work on this track, you can’t help but shake your shoulders and tap your feet. (Well, maybe the bored/confused indie teens on the main floor could resist—but something tells me they were also hoping for the legacy of this so-called Bright Eyes to appear and help fuel their tears. I get it, I was there once).
The sound quality was super crisp, and the overall blend of musicianship from the Mystic Valley Band was more than uplifting, it was a damned near joyful hoedown. Everyone on stage seemed to be having a grand old time, stomping out some solid jams and it wasn’t until I was politely asked by a Metro employee to “respect my fellow patrons,” (drunken dancing, guilty—sorry guy I spilled beer on, my bad), that I realized how much of a fun time I was indeed actually having. Fun? Happiness?AND Conor Oberst? Man, I guess anything’s possible. I was also pleasantly surprised to see that he sounded more like Conor Oberst live versus the creepily comparable Tom Petty vibe that had been present in his more recent work. An overall tight show, I can attest that the live experience of the Mystic Valley Band is a more solid translation of their works versus via the stereo. There’s no stomping, jamming or smiling through your speakers, folks, you gotta get out to the front lines and feel it for yourself. How the tides have changed, Conor, when I think of you now I just feel alright. No more teenage sob fests for either of us, although I guess we’ll always have our past.
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