Bright Eyes at the Wang Theatre
Last Thursday, Bright Eyes played at the old Metropolitan Theatre, the insanely ornate and baroque opera hall in Boston. It was thoroughly surreal, starting with the beautiful set by Gillian Welch. What followed after couldn’t have been more of a contrast. The Bright Eyes band entered wearing white suits, white cowboy hats, and white boots, while various psychedelic visuals played on a screen behind them. The bad was followed by several cellist, a flutist, and two drummers. They then briskly played through some extremely loud, complex, and angry arrangements of their songs, each more bizarre than the next. It was a failure musically, in that most of the songs sounded horrible, but it was perhaps the most interesting failure I’ve ever seen on stage. Conor Oberst has adopted a new narrative onstage, trying to look like some cinema version of the Doors playing The End to rioting crowds.
In a way, it’s a shame Conor felt the need to play the bacchanalian rock-star. He could probably sound a whole lot better if he was comfortable with a different narrative. He’s a damn good songwriter and poet, and should just be comfortable (like Gillian) in that role. I guess, however, people tend to adopt the narrative we expect from them. Rock has a way of making its stars implode in colorful supernovas, for the audience’s amusement.
