Conor Oberst at First Avenue 6/1/14
|Photo by Mark N. Kartarik|
First Avenue, Minneapolis
Sunday, June 1, 2014
34-year-old Conor Oberst no longer writes the sad songs that once served as our youthful, cry-along anthems, but he still manages to rein in sold-out crowds. Such was the case on Sunday night, when Oberst played the first of two shows at First Avenue to the grownup versions of the 13-year-olds who blasted Oberst in their bedrooms after particularly painful preteen breakups.
Age is meant to bring wisdom, which theoretically enables humans to be happier, right? Sure, but unfortunately, contentedness doesn't usually make for great music. Oberst's newfound positivity can't quite generate the same emotional connectivity between the him and his listeners as it used to. His songs have become increasingly distant. He's through with slicing himself open and bleeding on his audience and has instead moved towards instructing listeners on how to clean up their own bloody messes. Still, there's something about seeing your childhood anti-hero in the flesh.
Almost 12 years have passed since the release of Oberst's heart-melting masterpiece, I'm Wide Awake It's Morning. Since then, the emotional intensity that characterized his early songwriting endeavors has largely died down. However, Oberst's latest album, Upside Down Mountain, suggests a minor revival of that intensity and meaningfulness. It's still missing the youthful despair, rage, and heartache, but it's a step closer.
|Photo by Mark N. Kartarik|
Dawes opened the night with a polished country-inspired indie rock set that conjured images of a church picnic or farmer's market. Their musicianship was phenomenal, but the songs were uninspired and generic. With the exception of a few raucous beer-in-first pumping fans, they left the audience sleepy -- literally. A woman next to me passed out leaning against a pole during one of their ballads.
Singer and guitarist Taylor Goldsmith was masterful at hamming it up for the audience, and at times appeared to be climaxing during guitar solos. By the end of their set, it would have come as no surprise if a mechanical bull appeared in the audience or one of the beer-waving bros stripped off his sweaty T-shirt to whip audience members while screaming about the accomplishments of the right wing. Alas, the set remained excruciatingly tame, save for an uber-fan in the front row who insisted on loudly clapping out of time during quiet songs.
Oberst took the stage at 10 p.m., somehow still managing to look like an emo 20-something, with his T-shirt, black vest, and signature shaggy hair. Dawes served as his backing band for the night, playing an impressive total of three hours during the show. Frankly, they were much better suited as a backing band.
|Photos by Mark N. Kartarik|
Oberst played a lively set, complete with interpretive dance moves, foot stomping and spins, but his newer songs couldn't keep the audience captivated. It was clear when he was playing something off his new album -- audience members wandered away, talked amongst themselves, and used the opportunity to check their cell phones. Despite this, Oberst remained engaged and enthusiastic. He used every possible opportunity to address the audience, whether to thank them for listening, explain a song's meaning, or boost our city's self-esteem.