“We we’re all set for world domination,” laments Conor Oberst in his signature Nebraskan drawl, as he relates what by how is a familiar story to a near-capacity crowd at the Apollo. Many in attendance tonight will have been holding on to their tickets for two-and-a-half years, since they first went on sale shortly before the COVID-19 pandemic conspired to derail the big comeback for one of the US’ most beloved indie rock outfits.
Bright Eyes still released their first album in nine years that summer, and Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was still met with a warm response from fans and critics alike, but you still got the sense that until he could assemble his latest sprawling backing band and take it on the road, there’s always be a feeling of incompletion about this new era for the group - not least because, as the title suggests, the record speaks to present-day anxieties shared by band and audience alike.
Over the course of a career that began when he was a teenager, Oberst has carved out a reputation as a poster boy for a certain kind of emotionally wrought, lyrically literate brand of songwriting, and yet, tonight’s show is an upbeat affair, a maximalist celebration of one of the 21st century’s richest indie back catalogues. Along with fellow core members Mike Mogis and Nate Walcott, Oberst fronts what is at times a 12-piece band that includes horn and string players sourced locally, not unlike the pasties they mention that friends from Leigh have brought them from down the road.
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That Oberst is backed so handsomely allows him to use the guitar and piano only sporadically and, for the most part, embrace the role of prowling frontman, bringing a trademark nervous energy to tracks new and old, from the boisterous opening hat-trick of ‘Dance and Sing’, ‘An Attempt to Tip the Scales’ and ‘Jejune Stars’ to classics like ‘Bowl of Oranges’ and ‘Method Acting’, the latter of which is dedicated to Peaky Blinders star Cillian Murphy.
Even amongst the largely triumphal air of the set - the deep, deep nineties cut ‘Falling Out of Love at This Volume’ is transformed from the lo-fi introspection of its album version to a bombastic anthem - there is still room for minimalism, as proved by a gorgeous, violin-led take on ‘First Day of My Life’ to open the encore.
“I don’t really have any answers; if you’ve listened to my songs tonight, you’ll know they’re pretty pessimistic,” says Oberst with a grim mirth as he reflects on the state of the world ahead of the night’s last number, the unifying rallying call of ‘One for You, One for Me’. That’s not how things felt, though; after eleven years away from the UK, the atmosphere the band fostered was a joyous one. They’re as vital as ever.
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