A night with Bright Eyes.
I went to The Salt Shed looking for good music and a break from the cold. Bright Eyes delivered a set that was honest, emotional, and unexpectedly intense: the kind of show that sticks with you.
April 6 was one of those chilly spring evenings in Chicago that makes you question your decision to leave the warmth of your home. Worse yet, I was slightly ill and heading to the venue from a party, regretting my decision to venture so far downtown with every shiver. Yet, as I stepped into The Salt Shed, there was a shift in my mood, helped undoubtedly by a piece of warm focaccia pizza. Bright Eyes, the iconic Omaha trio fronted by Conor Oberst, was here to perform their tenth studio album which came out in 2024, Five Dice, All Threes. And while I didn't know much about the band, I was starry eyed for this boy I'd been seeing and easily convinced to go with him. So there I stood in this huge room, uncertain and curious as the first song, “Bells and Whistles,” echoed through the space.
The band took the stage, bathing us in deep red lighting. The moment felt surprisingly intimate, almost as if the show had been curated for us. Polite millennials had let us slip through to the front despite our right-on-time arrival. The energy from Oberst and his bandmates Mike Mogis and Nate Walcott (alongside guest musicians including Alex Levine from The So So Glos) was immediate and contagious. Oberst, looking every bit the rocker with his long, messy hair, quickly connected with the polite millennial crowd saying "It's so nice to be here. We love you, Chicago.”
From the outset, the concert felt raw. I was drawn in. I found myself captivated by the band’s authenticity and Oberst’s vulnerability. The frontman spoke passionately against war as he condemned violence in Palestine, and shared his fears about figures like Trump and Elon Musk, whom he described as embodiments of his worst anxieties. “Stick together and stay strong,” he implored—a call for unity that resonated with the audience.
There were two drum sets echoing each other rhythmically, guitars of every kind, even an oboe and tuba at some points, all creating a layered experience. The crowd swayed gently, immersed fully in the music. Behind the band, a black-and-white backdrop displayed the words "You are now at a Bright Eyes concert," adding some sort of utopian sense of community.
Amid all the music, there were feelings that stood out. When Oberst strummed the first chords of “First Day of My Life,” he called out, "Do we have any lovebirds in the crowd?" I glanced nervously at the boy next to me. We'd both recently ended relationships, and though he claimed this was his favorite song since he was ten, the shared intimacy felt uncertain. I turned to hug him, but his eyes were already closed, lost in the lyrics. Watching him, I wondered if we were simply there together.
Then came “Lua,” likely the band’s most heartbreaking track, a deeply honest portrayal of loneliness. The lyrics "When everything is lonely, I can be my own best friend," lingered. It was a tough listen—so raw and painfully relatable in its depiction of coping through isolation and addiction. Though I’m not typically a fan of sad music, this performance struck an emotional chord that I hadn’t anticipated.
Throughout the evening, Oberst’s stage presence was fierce and his vulnerability tangible. At times he seemed to embody the anxieties and confusions of our generation, particularly evident during the performance of “At the Bottom of Everything.” The haunting spoken intro about a doomed airplane ride was followed by a train-like chugging which transitioned into a playful acoustic melody reminiscent of a children’s song sung by a campfire, campy and simple. The song was a reminder of existential freedom, something Oberst himself emphasized early in the show, urging us to "be in the moment.”
By the time the concert ended, my phone was long dead. The boy and I would eventually drift, making the memories of the band and their music bittersweet. Still, I left The Salt Shed moved by the music and by how Bright Eyes had made me confront my own raw emotions in ways I hadn't expected. In that space, surrounded in a cocoon of passionate guitars, heartfelt lyrics, and a crowd swaying together, I felt imperfect, uncertain, yet alive, so alive!
photo by Online Added.