On Friday I saw Phil Lesh and Friends in the Nokia Theatre. I’m not here to talk about that experience, just the fact that I paid $60 for the ticket. On Saturday at Terminal 5, I saw Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band, with Ben Kweller and Rig One. The ticket was $30.
Always in concept, and often in execution, I hate opening acts, especially ones I never listen to, which is almost always the case. Why sit through music you don’t like for an hour or more when you’re just excited to see the headliner? They provide many benefits, though.
One (or at least the ones I know) will always make an attempt to arrive at a show around the time the gates open. But even though my friends and I arrived on time to the area in front of Terminal 5, it took awhile for us to actually get in because of the issue of an extra ticket that had to be sold and the ensuing character interactions that resulted from it.
Anyhow, by the time we got inside, the opening act, Rig One, was already on stage. We still lingered for awhile in the hallway leading up to the main room, purchasing “merch” and trying to secure a ride home. By the time we walked in, Rig One was towards the end of his set. But from what I heard I did not care. Rig One was sort of rap/rock – traditional rock and roll instruments with a rapper rapping over the music. The main thing about rap, in my opinion, is the lyrics. In the crowded concert hall half-filled with people who didn’t care, I could not hear a word the rapper said. It was kind of just annoying.
The second act was Ben Kweller. Ben Kweller is one of those names I’ve always heard people mention but I have never actually listened to any of his recordings. On a seemingly unrelated note, just a few weeks ago, I was wishing that I was around during country rock’s heyday. What I wouldn’t give to see the Flying Burrito Brothers or New Riders of the Purple Sage in their prime. Or the country rock version of the Byrds! Imagine seeing a conventional folk/pop/rock band turning country right before your eyes. Imagine seeing your former clean-cut mid-60s idol turn into a dirty country hippie, complete with a lap pedal steel guitar player to his right.
Well, that’s exactly what happened with Ben Kweller. The first song he played was so I’m-in-my-country-rock-phase my face was plastered with a permanent smile. Some of the people more familiar with his work were shouting out requests of his older songs, none of which he seemed to play. It was everything I had been hoping for with seeing Poco or something, but without the illogical time travel aspects. I liked his voice, too. It was unique yet familiar. I did find his piano ballads somewhat boring, however.
What I haven’t commented on yet was that this mostly standing-room-only venue was extremely crowded and the entire time it felt as if I were in a giant mosh pit. At one point, for about an hour there was something (perhaps a hard leather purse) digging directly into my spine. And it’s harder than one would think for a group of four people to all stand next to each other in such a tight space. When Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band finally came on stage, I lost all hope of my knees being parallel with my feet. But at least I was close. I saw chord shapes, analyzed the band members’ facial structures, and watched Conor Oberst’s spit fly all over the stage.
As I listen to the studio recordings today for the first time since the concert, I find that they do not do the songs justice. Oberst seems to have an existential relationship with the lyrics in most songs – they’re just meaningless words to him, he’s comfortable with them, used to them. One would think he’d be more comfortable with them in concert, and maybe it was just from his excessive alcohol consumption, but when he sang on Saturday, it was as if he was living through the songs for the first time. “
The band, too, made me look at the music differently. The album the Mystic Valley Band was promoting was called “Conor Oberst”. Yet their performance really seemed like a band. I’ve never seen Bright Eyes, Oberst’s main band, live in person, but whenever I watch live performance videos of them, everyone just seems to be doing their own thing. Bright Eyes has never had a stable lineup. Conor Oberst is the only member who appears on all their albums, and Mike Mogis comes in a close second, appearing on all but one album. But the Mystic Valley Band live is the only Mystic Valley Band there is, with most of the members appearing on the “Conor Oberst” album. Also, I felt a natural connection to the bass player, as he had long dark hair and a flannel shirt and therefore I thought he looked very similar to me. All in all, I could sense a real camaraderie between the band members.
This is in direct contrast to the recorded songs, because the Mystic Valley Band was assembled for the purpose of recording the album and had therefore not played in any sort of configuration together, much like most Bright Eyes lineups. It thus seemed like any other “first album by a band” in that the instrumentalists weren’t completely used to each other. After touring together for a good portion of the year, though, they were very tight. Not even all the beer Conor drank could ruin the flawlessness of the songs.
All in all, even though I wasn’t completely satisfied with every aspect of the three bands that played that night, I left Terminal 5 extremely content, as I had seen three acts, two of them rather good (and one of them probably at least OK, if only I could hear the lyrics) for only $30.
