Title: "False Advertising"

Artist: Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band, with Ben Kweller
Date: November 8, 2008
Venue: Terminal 5, NYC

I'm not young anymore, firmly past the thirty mark, and I watch as my generation matures past any hunger or thirst for new and fresh sounds. Some are tired of looking for new bands to touch our sweetparts on the weekend and then actually call us a few days later. I don't want to use the word 'lazy'; I think complacency is more accurate, and musicians are joining in. Creative artists who are looking for a way to be in it for the long haul are figuring the best way to do that is to repeat what worked before. And that means Dad Rock.

I went to see Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes play a show with his "solo-project", The Mystic Valley Band, and right off the bat, the crowd worried me. Dominating the floor space were swooning girls who were only there cuz they thought Mr. Oberst was dreamy (and that would continue during his set when any between-song banter was met with teeny-bopper screams and surely soaked panties), and guys that can best be described as Jack Johnson fans - you know, those guys who act like obnoxious frat guys who you would expect to see at a Kid Rock show but who listen to lightweight post-hippie shit like DMB because that's what girls listen to and they think it makes them appear sensitive. The people I expected to make up the audience, the general open-minded rock fans (my girlfriend and friends) and the still-hopeful indie rockers and punks (myself), were forced to the margins with confused looks on their faces.

My worry was temporarily alleviated when I walked in during Ben Kweller's great little scrappy garage throwdown. Kweller, all wild mane, was putting 1000% into it, and I was disappointed I hadn't showed up for his whole set. Then it was Conor's turn in the spotlight, and I was hoping for good things. Beyond his 2002 masterpiece LIFTED..., I haven't been all that into his classic rock direction lately - how can a modern artist produce such a youthful statement of talent and independence of vision, and then basically retrace the steps his parents' generation were taking at his age - but to be fair, his new solo album is marginally the best of that bunch, and at least I knew he was gonna play those songs.

And play them he did, ignoring the Bright Eyes catalog, and he presented them with a perplexing level of professionalism. Oberst appeared to be having fun with his tight yet faceless band, even letting them sing three songs (guitarist: 2, drummer: 1), while he got his boogie on, shimmying and shaking across the stage. There just wasn't anything new, every one of his moves lifted (no pun-intended) from the frontmen wing of rock history. I had seen all this before, repeated over and over on VH-1. The calmness of the show's laidback rockist pace was a bit stifling to me, but admittedly not to the aforementioned majority. They ate this shit up. Competency may get you at least to average, but shouldn't a show be more exciting than the record? Isn't that the point?

I am in firm belief that professionalism is the antithesis of passion and urgency, the same way that an artist and an artisan are at odds. At some point, you are simply a craftsman, working from a preset plan. And I fear Oberst has one foot through that door and John Mellencamp is welcoming him in. I'm looking for edge, and I don't mean like hype-driven premeditated alterna-rock edge, but a musical edge - danger, uncertainty, etc. Even whatever tension that exists on the album got smoked out and floated away with the weed cloud backstage (Joints likely rolled on Gram Parsons album sleeve). The twangy gallop of the already lightweight "Sausalito" actually managed to be more soft and light. "Get-Well-Cards", wrapped over a tune that sounds like Tesla's cover of "Signs", lost the pointed lyric which works so well on the album, swallowed up as a sing-along for sloppy drunks.

I support an artist's right to explore, but that doesn't mean I'm going to like where they go next, especially if it means regressing back to what was going on 35 years ago. In politics, as we've seen very recently, a candidate gets publicly hung any time they say something that goes against their base. That's how I felt about this show. Conor Oberst has spent most of his career promoting a left-of-center way of thinking, from his lyrics to his fellow Omaha bands that he's bolstered, and this show displayed virtually none of that mind-set, none of that verve. Three-quarters of this audience would have run for the doors if Cursive got on stage and started playing. If I told you Oberst's brand of country rock wasn't far from the Eagles, would you believe me? Cuz that's what came to mind. I've also compared it to Jackson Browne a lot, not that he's bad, but there's a distinct lack of excitement to him. "Danny Callahan", "Moab", and the pretty damn good "Souled Out" all sounded interchangeable, just more folkish Southern rock that has been defanged. "Souled Out" only sticks out for me now because I recognize the hook on the album, which is good, and I remember that in both cases, it’s followed by the languid "Milk Thistle", even more languid and long-winded on stage, which is not so good.   Now, the great exception to all of this, as anyone who's heard the album knows, is "I Don't Want to Die (in the Hospital)", a brilliant cow-punk rave-up that is exactly the type of stuff I beg Oberst to do more of; not only did it top the album version, the second he raised the tempo above my pulse, I woke up and paid attention. It predictably brought the house down, as did a spirited cover of Paul Simon's "Kodachrome" with Ben Kweller back to duet - though it’s a very telling cover choice considering what we’re talking about - and they should have ended the show except Oberst needed to send us off with on a quiet note.

Like so much of this frankly good show, the hushed exit simply missed the mark, easily proving the punk adage that if my dad would like it, then I'm not interested. Ben Kweller ably showed that a balance is possible, and essentially blew the MVB off the stage. And, ya know, I'm older than Conor Oberst, and I still would rather have the revolution over the revival; I'm still searching, still hungry, and I was hoping his show would be more appetizing. - Raz

Photos by Veronica McKenna