MOG

It's been a long time since Conor Oberst, known to most as Mr. Bright Eyes, played a show in Manchester. Three and half years, to be precise. And all that time I've been waiting for it. You could probably call me a superfan - I own 152 songs by him, I know the words to four of his albums by heart. I've watched the Saddle Creek DVD and know obscure facts about his life that even he's probably forgotten. So, as you can imagine, I was pretty psyched for his return, this time with his Mystic Valley band. But the excitement was tinged with trepidation - what if this show wasn't worth the all the time I'd waited? Fortunately, I needn't have worried.

The show was opened by Welsh troubadour Euros Childs, a man with a rather eclectic setlist. His style ranged from Undertones-esque pop-punk to "old fashioned country knees-up" music, whilst his lyrics were even more bemusing. To start with, half of them were in Welsh, and many others were just bizarre - "if I had a monkey, he'd shit in your shoe". Still, despite my initial reluctance he turned out to be an impressive opening act, and well worth checking out.

Euros Child

The at last the waiting was over, and Oberst took to the stage. In the past I've heard bad things about his shows - he's been called cantankerous, drunk and unresponsive. However true this may have been, that was not the Conor we got to see. He romped through the upbeat tracks, spitting and sweating, and the slow songs were tender and intense. He rattled and stomped through Don't Want to Die In A Hospital, while his emotive and atmospheric solo version of Milk Thistle provided the standout spine-tingling moment. Get-Well Cards became a shared sing-a-along as did the gloriously fast-paced rendition of Sausalito.

Yet this was not simply the Conor Oberst show, the Mystic Valley band were equally impressive, relishing every note, and even ditching Conor for a cover of Everybody's Talkin'. The band also seemed to draw the notoriously introspective Oberst out of his shell, and jokes abounded - no-one present will ever walk down Market Street without smiling at "Buster the Busker" now...

It seems Oberst has grown into his role as a performer. Where before there may have been insecurity, now there is joy. He was playful with his bandmates, coy with the crowd, and nobody could have doubted his enthusiasm as he retreated from the stage, his shirt  see-through with sweat. Returning for the encore he elevated this gig to the legendary. It was at this point where Conor lost all inhibitions, he promised to "play all night" of he was supplied with enough beer, and when the crowd offered to take him  up on the offer, he started demanding a disco. Sadly his touring schedule made an all nighter impossible, but he made up for this with something incredible and unexpected. For almost a decade Oberst has been touted as "the new Dylan", and it seems he decided to own this label. At the show's climax he launched into a spectacular, soulful (albeit rather knowing) cover of Corinna, Corrina. With an almost childlike wave, he disappeared backstage, and it was all over. I just hope I don't have to wait another 3 years to see him again...