Bright Eyes @ The Hi-Fi Bar,Melbourne (10/11/11)

Fri 18th Nov, 2011 in Gig Reviews

There’s a difficult question raised by watching a band like Bright Eyes grow up: what happens to so-called tortured geniuses when the “tortured” part of that title no longer applies? It’s a tricky proposition that all too often results in their subsequent ventures becoming sterile and detached, all sheen and no substance. Based on tonight’s performance though, Conor Oberst and co. seem to have fared better than most. It’s been six years since they last graced our shores, and in the meantime they’ve aged gracefully, proving that it’s possible to fill bigger shoes without

Emma Russack and her band helped support on the night, yet it was difficult to really judge her music, bogged down as it was in mixing issues. The vocals were buried so deep in the mix as to render the lyrics entirely indistinguishable, and everything’s smothered in muddy, rattling bass. Her mournful alt-country shows glimpses of promise, recalling Mazzy Star in its better moments. Tonight, however, the songs are dirge-like and hard to tell apart, though there’s no indication that the band themselves are at fault.

Thankfully, the sound seems to improve by the time Bright Eyes take the stage. The first thing that makes itself clear is just how loyal of a fan base Bright Eyes enjoy in Melbourne – there’s barely a moment’s silence all night that isn’t punctuated by screamed declarations of love from men and women alike. The one drawback of this is that every time Oberst deviates from a song’s original timing, either pausing or slowing it down, he finds himself pre-empted by a chorus of hundreds. To his credit, he takes this in his stride, and by the time Shell Games comes around, he’s clearly doing it on purpose, having fun trying to catch the crowd out.

The band cover a lot of ground over the course of their two-hour set, playing a crowd-pleasing set that stretches across their entire back catalogue. It’s not just the hits either, with early composition Falling Out of Love at This Volume making an appearance, albeit in a far more joyous form, updated to fit the dense sonics of Bright Eyes’ current iteration. Indeed, the band’s sound tonight is unabashedly big, with up to 7 on stage at any one time – doubling up not only on guitarists, but also keyboardists and drummers.

For all the polish and grandeur that Bright Eyes display tonight though, they’re anything but sterile. Key to this is Oberst’s distinctive voice, which remains as affecting as ever. Despite the undeniable talents of the band assembled behind him, the evening’s best moments come when it’s stripped back to just this voice and an instrument. This is the case with Ladder Song, as Oberst hunches over his piano, immersed in the song as if he’s suddenly unaware of the audience’s presence. There’s a moment where he hesitates, lingering slightly too long on the piano refrain as though mustering the strength to go on. It’s as utterly compelling as it is almost uncomfortably honest, as though we’re intruding on a private moment.

These points of intensity are contrasted with instances of unrestrained grandiosity and showmanship. Partly due to moments like the one on Ladder Song, or the similarly sparse rendition of Lua, the band get away with even the most excessive of these. By far the worst offender is Oberst’s theatrical introduction of the band on set closer One for You, One for Me – a song that’s already approaching dangerous levels of kitsch.

In many ways, this split personality between stark emotion and polished showmanship perfectly sums up a Bright Eyes gig in 2011: it isn’t the cathartic, soul-baring screamfest of years gone by. Instead, as Oberst alternates on stage between a wild stumble and what can only be described as a strut, it’s a damn enjoyable gig by a group of consummate entertainers, with a little catharsis on the side. And that seems to suit the band, and their audience, just fine.