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By Lara Purvis
Bright Eyes :: 06.12.06 :: Bronson Centre :: Ottawa, Canada
Unwillingly charismatic singer-songwriter Conor Oberst and his tense, ever-evolving band Bright Eyes graced Ottawa, Ontario with a grippingly vibrant show. At odds with the audience to begin with, they were won over by the loyal, unrelenting crowd. Despite the fact it was Bright Eyes' first time in Canada's capital, the sold-out venue held nearly 900 dedicated Bright Eyes fans.
Conor Oberst by Dave Vann |
The show was held at the Bronson Centre, a seated venue close to Ottawa's downtown area. The venue was once a Catholic high school, so the outer hallways are white tile, minimalist and serviceable. Stepping into the auditorium, however, the vibe is intimate and almost classy.
Walking down the aisle and along the front as I searched for an empty seat, I eyed the crowd. Suddenly, I felt out of place as I was hard-pressed to see any folks over eighteen. Glancing past big plastic earrings, shaggy dyed black hair, and the 'perfect' shades of grey, I fell into a seat to mull this over.
The kid next to me whipped around and gushed, "Are you excited?" As I paused to answer his question, he continued, "I am. I've never seen Bright Eyes before, have you?" The interrogation continued. Never really having the opportunity to respond, I learned that my neighbor was fourteen, had been driven to the show by his parents and was concerned about his acne scarring.
I could go either way. I could be pleased that there was a younger generation interested in cool music, music that was not on MTV. Or I could be irritated with the incessant jabbering, pull out my notepad, and indicate that I was certainly not interested. Swinging erratically from side to side, I hung in limbo.
There is a price to be paid for introducing the younger generation to the creativity of independent music. The show hadn't yet started, no one was on stage, but already the digital cameras and phones were being held high up, and flashes were going off continuously. I hoped that when the band came on, the crowd would suddenly have a bad
case of concert etiquette. Sadly, this was not the case.
Gruff Rhys :: Photo courtesy of Peripheral Anomaly |
The stage set-up certainly was interesting, if the kids needed an excuse. A large square table stood with a red tartan blanket on top. Upon the table and hanging from the flamingo-shaped microphone were little brightly colored toy birds.
The opening act, Gruff Rhys, was nothing close to predictable. He lumbered on stage, bushy haired and disheveled, as if he had lost his way. Sitting down at the table, I was relieved to see that the absurd set-up was his, not Oberst's. Why, I'm not sure. Either way, it was intriguing.
Gruff Rhys (yes it is his real name) is the guitarist and singer for the Welsh indie band Super Furry Animals. This was Gruff's first Canadian tour in support of his debut solo album, Yr Atal Genhedlaeth, and this was the first show of the tour. Looking back, his obvious nervousness seemed reasonable.
His thick accent meant one needed to listen closely to understand him, particularly when he was singing. He opened with a quiet acoustic piece that seemed almost like a lullaby, till one could make out the lyrics, "I vomited through your saxophone solo and all those notes you bellowed." He smiled shyly as he introduced his next song, "This is a song I haven't played in public before so it might be horrible." As I sat back, trying to figure him out, I noticed the crowd settling as he quietly and persistently drew their attention to him. By the third song, a punchy acoustic piece about his wayward labrador retriever, the ongoing camera flashes had slowed and the audience, still slightly skeptical, had stilled.
His set continued, whimsical and creative - not so carefully treading the line between charming and outlandish. For a few moments, he crossed that line when mid-song he couldn't find his harmonica. So encouraging us to hum along to his Casio, he scrambled through bags searching for the missing instrument. He even headed backstage to look. A comedian or a musician? Creative or ridiculous? While I couldn't decide, others seemed to have clearly made up their minds. Some were laughing, fully engaged, while others, clearly not impressed, were leaning back with arms crossed, muttering out of the sides of their mouths. Gruff continued through the rest of his set with additional moments of silliness. In the end, my mind is not made up on opening act Gruff Rhys, but what I can say is this – if the Welshman ends up crossing through your town, do go see him. His dry sense of humor, his low-fi sound, creative looping, and electronics at the very least will be memorable.
Conor Oberst by Dave Vann |
Girlish screams ensued at the appearance of Bright Eyes on stage. The six band members took their spots, barely acknowledging the crowd. Picking up his acoustic guitar, Conor opened with a rocking new piece, "4 Winds." Dark-eyed, his black hair falling across his face, Conor stood rigidly upright, his movements nervously erratic as he played.
The crowd did not settle. Young girls pushed each other out of the way in the aisle to hold up their cell phone cameras. Through the applause after "4 Winds," they screamed tasteless catcalls. While some in the crowd cringed, the band did not smile, did not even flinch. It was as if they hadn't even heard. They'd obviously heard it all before.
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