Conor Oberst plays Capitol Theatre in Clearwater, Florida on October 21, 2017. Credit: Andrew Silverstein

You know you’re getting older when you see certain cultural trends emerge and bust, only to come back years later rolling in like a high-speed nostalgia train. One of the latest cases: emo music, particularly that of the early 2000s. It has re-emerged in “Emo Nights” at dive bars across the country (including a few of our own), reunion tours, even new-ish music from bands like the Get Up Kids and American Football to name a few.

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This is completely understandable. People naturally look back at the prime years of their lives, the music that soundtracked it, and get all warm and fuzzy when they hear that music again. This is, partially, what makes 700-ish people come out to an old theatre in Clearwater see Conor Oberst perform on a Saturday night.

Yet, as synonymous as his name is with the genre, Oberst is hardly a nostalgic emo act. When the genre went into hibernation, Oberst flourished, turning Bright Eyes into a full-on folk-rock outfit with great to middling results; joining the short-lived supergroup Monsters of Folk; re-joining his former and folk-rockier band, Desaparecidos; and, most recently releasing a bare-bones solo album (2016’s Ruminations) followed up by a companion album, 2017’s Salutations, which is basically all the Ruminations tracks recorded with a full band and one new song.

Now, here he is, nearing 40 years old with an Appalachian Trail’s worth of music to cull from for his performance. Backed by a four-piece band including James Felice (of Felice Brothers fame) on the keys and accordion, Jessica Hume on bass, and Jim Schroeder on lead guitar, Oberst seemed to be good spirits for the night.

Opening with “Lenders in the Temple,” a solemn number from his first self-titled album, Oberst sounded crystalline as his voice soared over his subtle finger-picking and accompanying accordion from Felice.

From there, Oberst pulled from all corners of his catalogue, utilizing his full-band to the fullest for tracks like the foot-stomping-ly good “Make War” to the vocally-harmonious “Ten Women.”

Between songs, Oberst would occasionally give a little VH1 Storytellers-esque talk about the next song in the set. A particularly endearing one was the story behind “Till St. Dymphna Kicks Us Out.” When Oberst moved to New York at 22 years old, he frequented this bar “St. Dymphna’s” where a Portuguese waitress took a liking to him, serving him food when he looked hungry (which, in all probability, was all the time), and doling out drinks like the cool mom in high school. “I’m still friends with her to this day,” he recalled, championing the diversity of our country and ending with a nice “fuck Donald Trump.”

The thing I loved most about Saturday night’s set, and maybe just Oberst in general, is the range in moods, tempos and themes of each song. One minute he’s channeling James-Taylor-esque calm on “An Attempt to Tip the Scales” before full-out assaulting his guitar on “Something Vague.” There was even a moment in “Train Underwater” when Oberst sings the refrain devoid of any instrumentation. This is a 12-year old-song, easily sing-along-able, yet the only voice you could hear in the house was his. It was eerie how captivating moment was, even if for only a few seconds.

Even if you weren’t the biggest fan (and man, there were plenty of contenders for “biggest fan” in the house), there was never a dull moment in the hour-plus set. Ending with a yet-to-be-released solo piano number (tentatively called “No One’s Gonna Change” by the YouTubes), Oberst wailed out a throat-ripping chorus that played on the song title. There was no holding back. It felt cathartic with a sense of unease like he’d let it all out, but still had plenty more to say, on record, and right here in Clearwater.

Which, he did. The requisite encore including another yet-to-be-released piano/vocal ballad “LAX” and a tribute to the late Tom Petty with a deep-cut cover of “Walls” alongside opener Tim Kasher. He finished the night with Salutation’s “Napalm”, an Allman Brothers-like anthem that made for a scorching coda in a song list I won’t soon forget.

Setlist

Lenders in the Temple

Get-Well Cards

Time Forgot

Ten Women

Till St. Dymphna Kicks Us Out

Make War

Overdue

Cape Canaveral

An Attempt to Tip the Scales

Something Vague

Empty Hotel by the Sea