Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst gives off a startling air of shy insecurity for an emerging indie-rock star. Standing behind the microphone at the Metro May 8, the diminutive singer shielded his eyes behind a thick spring of hair, shadowed by spotlights fixed permanently on the floor. But as Oberst strummed the opening chords to “One Foot in Front of the Other,” the illusion of self-doubt was broken, shattered by the erratic increase in decibels and verbal punches that define Bright Eyes. “Greed is a bottomless pit / And our freedom’s a joke / We’re just takin’ piss,” Oberst wailed with conviction, spawning rounds of applause from the crowd.
The wild intensity of Bright Eyes was a refreshing contrast to openers Arab Strap, Scottish Lo-Fi rockers who cared more about cashing their check than what appeared on the evening news. Lead singer Aidan Moffat had the art of apathy and disillusionment down, pacing the stage between monotonous choruses like a kid who lost his Ritalin prescription.
Compared to Moffat, the 23-year-old Oberst looked like a seasoned folk veteran, standing stoically at center stage, acoustic guitar in hand. The 2002 release of Lifted or the Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground, proves the singer/songwriter has matured from a solo actor into an inspired leader and arranger. The genius of Bright Eyes doesn’t just rest on Oberst’s shoulders but in the quality of his band. The remarkably multi-talented cast of characters jumped from instrument to instrument like they were playing a game of musical chairs. Bandmate Mike Mogis, a Saddle Creek Records staple, was at the forefront of the masquerade, jumping from banjo to bongos to glockenspiel.
While bands often overwhelm the voices of their singers, the group managed to complement rather than drown Oberst, acting as the perfect accompaniment to the warbly-voice lead. Though on previous tours Oberst hit the road alone, the addition of the band fills out his sound. For once, he appears semi-comfortable on stage. On the night’s gem “The Calendar Hung Itself” from 2000’s Fevers and Mirrors, Oberst almost seemed happy, bouncing along furiously to the raucous beat.
Though Oberst is far from reveling in his success or even admitting his emerging place in the mainstream, there is a newfound strength in his sound. And not surprisingly, he has found his muse in the pain and fear of fame. For the encore, Oberst started with “A Song to Pass the Time” which wrestles with the demons that fuel his music but torture his life. “A melody to keep from worrying / Simple progression to keep my fingers busy,” he sang with breathy conviction, mumbling: “My mediocrity, my mediocrity.” If the performance proved anything, it was that Bright Eyes is anything but mediocre.
