Brand Spankin New BRIGHT EYES review!!!
Easily my most popular blog entry report essay ever was my open letter to Ghostface Killah.
But perhaps my second favorite post was my review of the very first time I saw Bright Eyes aka Connor Oberst aka Bright Eyes. I remember it like it was yesterday (I have a very poor memory and often time-travel.) Sitting in a pew in Harvard surrounded by crazies that made me want to punch, I watched as Bright Eyes and his band, the Brighter Eyes, played I'm Wide Awake It's Mourning pretty much in it's entirety and it was good. But that was two years ago and in that time, Sister Bright Eyes has come back around a couple of times and each time I don't go. Why? Cause fuck you, that's why. I do what I goddamned well please.
But a couple of weeks ago, I heard that Bright Eyes was packing up his shit and hitting the road (which couldn't be that hard as I suspect he lives in his car because he is bohemian as fuck.) I went to the only person I know gayer than myself (STEVE MFING WILKINSON!!!) and said,
But perhaps my second favorite post was my review of the very first time I saw Bright Eyes aka Connor Oberst aka Bright Eyes. I remember it like it was yesterday (I have a very poor memory and often time-travel.) Sitting in a pew in Harvard surrounded by crazies that made me want to punch, I watched as Bright Eyes and his band, the Brighter Eyes, played I'm Wide Awake It's Mourning pretty much in it's entirety and it was good. But that was two years ago and in that time, Sister Bright Eyes has come back around a couple of times and each time I don't go. Why? Cause fuck you, that's why. I do what I goddamned well please.
But a couple of weeks ago, I heard that Bright Eyes was packing up his shit and hitting the road (which couldn't be that hard as I suspect he lives in his car because he is bohemian as fuck.) I went to the only person I know gayer than myself (STEVE MFING WILKINSON!!!) and said,
SEAN
We cannot miss this show.
STEVE
But we've missed him the two or three times he's come back since
SEAN
(slapping Steve)
Shut up.
We cannot miss this show.
STEVE
But we've missed him the two or three times he's come back since
SEAN
(slapping Steve)
Shut up.
So I ordered tickets and they mailed me the tickets. But what ho? My older brother, PFunk, got free tickets for being a poster hanger upper or something and guess what? Those tickets were way better. So fuck you, tickets I bought. We're going with the free tickets. But.... PFunk's tickets come at a cost. That cost? My soul or $30. Either way, he needs to be paid in full the next time I see him or slap. Ouch. So me and Steve pile into my mom's trusty 2006 KIA mini-van (which for the record is a hell of a lot gayer than going to see Bright Eyes but we'll get to that once we sell these tickets.) So we sell the two tickets.
Let me pause for a second. Going to see Bright Eyes is not gay. I don't even know what that means. First of all, I'm led to believe that gay people have much better taste and probably wouldn't go see Bright Eyes. Secondly, I did not go into the concert and all of the sudden was "gimme a guy cause I'm gay." Going to see Bright Eyes is not gay. Being as excited as I was to see Bright Eyes is a little bit gay but I'm fine with that because as i've said before i'm 49.9 percent gay (that covers the part about loving musical theater and getting into long winded discussions about how Liza Minelli was the absolute worst possible casting decision for the film adaptation of Cabaret, not because she is terrifying and big-headed but because she's an American and an American Sally Bowles complete destroys the political alleghory of the piece but i digress.) So to my girlfriend Kassandra, Tom Dustin, Chris Walsh, June Politano, this chick I work with who heard Tom Dustin call me gay on the phone, Renata Tutko, Ken Reid, Brandon Hagan, seangeorge, and my own self-loathing, I say "quit pickin on me. aw jeez."
We walked into the Somerville Theater (which is awesome) and sat in our seats (which were awesome) and waited. And then waited some more. I got so bored waiting that I went and got some popcorn and an ice tea. As I was sitting back down, I poured most of the popcorn into Steve's lap and poured most of the ice tea down my throat. Around who-knows-what-time, MWard came out. I was not a huge fan of MWard before the show. I heard Post-War and thought it was ok. I'm not one for overly reverby vocals that sound like they're being recorded in a well but I am incredibly pretentious so I when I heard he was opening, I was glad because it meant that somewhere down the road, I could potentially be pretentiously condescending to someone and that's a good feeling.
But holy fuck, he was amazing. MWard? More MWarding-off-bad-times-by-being-such-an-awesome-one-man-band-machine. Sweet fuck. The guy can play and apparently, he sings all echo-y so it wasn't just studio effects (you like how I did that? dropped in "studio effects" like I know what I'm talking about). My only complaint. The man's hands are freakishly limber. He plays acoustic guitar and sounds like there is a full band on stage. But it's because he's either triple jointed in his fingers or something because his fingerpicks and his hand was moving in ways that suggested he had shattered all the bones in his hand with a hammer in order to be able slap them around so much. Next time you see me, ask me for a demonstration.
So MWard plays only like 25 mins and then he's done. And then we wait. Which is insane because MWard played his own guitar for 25 mins without touching anything else on the stage. All of Bright Eyes and the Bright Eyes Seven's shit was untouched and was perfectly laid out from the minute we got there. Why did we have to wait 30 mins for Bright Eyes then? Why? There was a chick sitting in the row behind us who started doing her homework. Seriously. She kept asking me what the square root of pi was and I peed my pants cause that's how I roll when birds (n: dames, skirts, or broads) start talking.
Me and Steve decided to use the bathroom and check out the merch table. What the fuck happened to you, Bright Eyes? When did you become such a corporate whore? 10 bucks for a 5 song ep? Suck a dick, Bright Eyes. No way. I'll buy your EP at Best Buy on Tuesday (where I'll also buy the new Arcade Fire. Boner.) It used to be about the melodramatic emoting and now, it's all about the money, huh? You know why they call you Bright Eyes, Bright Eyes, because your eyes are so bright from reflecting all of the money that you are stealing from all your bright-eyed disicples. Unbelievable.
But anyway, we went back to sit down and holy balls, the lights went out and the show started and WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT'S THE GUY FROM AFI DOING SINGING LEAD FOR BRIGHT EYES!?!? seriously. If I could figure out how to find pictures of both Davey Havok from AFI and Bright Eyes from Bright Eyes, I would post them so you can compare them. Bananas.
The show was good. For the first time in a long while, nobody was so annoying that I wanted to strangle them which was nice for a change (I've been going to a bunch of shows with Steve and it never fails that somebody standing around us does something so ridiculous that my enjoyment of the show is put on hold because I go silently mental about how insane what I'm seeing is. It's a curse.)
Bright Eyes is the kind of cat that plays songs that aren't yet available which is good but come on, man, play some of the hits. All I ask for is one or two of your fucking standout tracks. How bout "Bowl of Oranges" or "From A Balance Beam" or "The Calendar Hung Itself" or the song about how your imaginary brother imaginarily drowned in a bathtub before you ever learned his name and that's the imaginary reason you came up with for why you drink so much? At the very least play "When The President Talks to God Part Two: THE RESPONSE!"
Bright Eyes closed with "Laura Laurent" which me and Steve questioned at first but then stopped questioning once Bright Eyes started his nervous breakdown and jumped into the crowd (for the record, I don't think he was really breaking down but that's cause I have a degree in theater and apparently gay).
On the way out, we followed a kid into the lobby and this is what he said in an exacerbated or more appropriate word, short of breath fashion: "Oh my God, I can't believe it. HE WAS SO GOOD! It was an honor to have him come out in the crowd and be right near me. I wanted to cry with Connor!"
Best heckle of the night in responce to a "I love you Connor": "Who's Connor?" shouted by someone who was not me but must be a fan of mine.
The show ended. Me and Steve, satisfied, climbed into the mini-van and drove to Hilarium where we drank PBR and I almost broke Joe List's neck from moshing to the Walsh Bros/Grown Up Noise.
All in all, not a bad time.
Let me pause for a second. Going to see Bright Eyes is not gay. I don't even know what that means. First of all, I'm led to believe that gay people have much better taste and probably wouldn't go see Bright Eyes. Secondly, I did not go into the concert and all of the sudden was "gimme a guy cause I'm gay." Going to see Bright Eyes is not gay. Being as excited as I was to see Bright Eyes is a little bit gay but I'm fine with that because as i've said before i'm 49.9 percent gay (that covers the part about loving musical theater and getting into long winded discussions about how Liza Minelli was the absolute worst possible casting decision for the film adaptation of Cabaret, not because she is terrifying and big-headed but because she's an American and an American Sally Bowles complete destroys the political alleghory of the piece but i digress.) So to my girlfriend Kassandra, Tom Dustin, Chris Walsh, June Politano, this chick I work with who heard Tom Dustin call me gay on the phone, Renata Tutko, Ken Reid, Brandon Hagan, seangeorge, and my own self-loathing, I say "quit pickin on me. aw jeez."
We walked into the Somerville Theater (which is awesome) and sat in our seats (which were awesome) and waited. And then waited some more. I got so bored waiting that I went and got some popcorn and an ice tea. As I was sitting back down, I poured most of the popcorn into Steve's lap and poured most of the ice tea down my throat. Around who-knows-what-time, MWard came out. I was not a huge fan of MWard before the show. I heard Post-War and thought it was ok. I'm not one for overly reverby vocals that sound like they're being recorded in a well but I am incredibly pretentious so I when I heard he was opening, I was glad because it meant that somewhere down the road, I could potentially be pretentiously condescending to someone and that's a good feeling.
But holy fuck, he was amazing. MWard? More MWarding-off-bad-times-by-being-such-an-awesome-one-man-band-machine. Sweet fuck. The guy can play and apparently, he sings all echo-y so it wasn't just studio effects (you like how I did that? dropped in "studio effects" like I know what I'm talking about). My only complaint. The man's hands are freakishly limber. He plays acoustic guitar and sounds like there is a full band on stage. But it's because he's either triple jointed in his fingers or something because his fingerpicks and his hand was moving in ways that suggested he had shattered all the bones in his hand with a hammer in order to be able slap them around so much. Next time you see me, ask me for a demonstration.
So MWard plays only like 25 mins and then he's done. And then we wait. Which is insane because MWard played his own guitar for 25 mins without touching anything else on the stage. All of Bright Eyes and the Bright Eyes Seven's shit was untouched and was perfectly laid out from the minute we got there. Why did we have to wait 30 mins for Bright Eyes then? Why? There was a chick sitting in the row behind us who started doing her homework. Seriously. She kept asking me what the square root of pi was and I peed my pants cause that's how I roll when birds (n: dames, skirts, or broads) start talking.
Me and Steve decided to use the bathroom and check out the merch table. What the fuck happened to you, Bright Eyes? When did you become such a corporate whore? 10 bucks for a 5 song ep? Suck a dick, Bright Eyes. No way. I'll buy your EP at Best Buy on Tuesday (where I'll also buy the new Arcade Fire. Boner.) It used to be about the melodramatic emoting and now, it's all about the money, huh? You know why they call you Bright Eyes, Bright Eyes, because your eyes are so bright from reflecting all of the money that you are stealing from all your bright-eyed disicples. Unbelievable.
But anyway, we went back to sit down and holy balls, the lights went out and the show started and WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT'S THE GUY FROM AFI DOING SINGING LEAD FOR BRIGHT EYES!?!? seriously. If I could figure out how to find pictures of both Davey Havok from AFI and Bright Eyes from Bright Eyes, I would post them so you can compare them. Bananas.
The show was good. For the first time in a long while, nobody was so annoying that I wanted to strangle them which was nice for a change (I've been going to a bunch of shows with Steve and it never fails that somebody standing around us does something so ridiculous that my enjoyment of the show is put on hold because I go silently mental about how insane what I'm seeing is. It's a curse.)
Bright Eyes is the kind of cat that plays songs that aren't yet available which is good but come on, man, play some of the hits. All I ask for is one or two of your fucking standout tracks. How bout "Bowl of Oranges" or "From A Balance Beam" or "The Calendar Hung Itself" or the song about how your imaginary brother imaginarily drowned in a bathtub before you ever learned his name and that's the imaginary reason you came up with for why you drink so much? At the very least play "When The President Talks to God Part Two: THE RESPONSE!"
Bright Eyes closed with "Laura Laurent" which me and Steve questioned at first but then stopped questioning once Bright Eyes started his nervous breakdown and jumped into the crowd (for the record, I don't think he was really breaking down but that's cause I have a degree in theater and apparently gay).
On the way out, we followed a kid into the lobby and this is what he said in an exacerbated or more appropriate word, short of breath fashion: "Oh my God, I can't believe it. HE WAS SO GOOD! It was an honor to have him come out in the crowd and be right near me. I wanted to cry with Connor!"
Best heckle of the night in responce to a "I love you Connor": "Who's Connor?" shouted by someone who was not me but must be a fan of mine.
The show ended. Me and Steve, satisfied, climbed into the mini-van and drove to Hilarium where we drank PBR and I almost broke Joe List's neck from moshing to the Walsh Bros/Grown Up Noise.
All in all, not a bad time.
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