Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band – Electric Ballroom, London 27/08/08

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“Sorry if we all look sick,” Oberst laconically intones early on in the set he and his Mystic Valley Band gleefully hammer out this evening; “we all are sick”. Not one to let this stop him knocking back vodka mixers or throwing himself into a long old set list with abandon, tonight sees his recent self-titled effort fleshed-out, bulked-up and frankly sounding better than ever – an instinctive understanding the band must have stumbled upon down Mexico-way bolstered by months spent touring their wares.

For while the album may be eponymous, tonight’s show is tellingly billed a full band affair – although carried by and resting predominantly on Oberst’s shoulders, the band all notably chime in. Singer-songwriter Nik Freitas (who resides on Oberst’s Team Love label) and Jason Boesel (long-standing Bright Eyes and Rilo Kiley sticksman) both lead songs to fine effect – Freitas even joshing good-naturedly with the crowd as they roll through a number and a half sans Oberst later on. As good as they are though, the finest moments abound when said troubadour is present – whether tumbling from the drum-kit, caterwauling about the place or overcoming his ailments to deliver ragged, impassioned cuts such as ‘Lenders In The Temple’ or a fine ‘Milk Thistle’ (which surely ranks way up there among his emotive best), his is an oddly magnetic presence; and in some of the newer material aired tonight – or the covers even, as we’re served a wonderfully volatile take on ‘Corrine, Corrina’ (!) – there’s a sense of the unpredictable, screaming wordslinger of old lurching through.

Worthy of consideration at this juncture is whether, not long after an album recorded low-scale and in relaxed surroundings, Oberst has anything significant up his sleeve come future projects; bearing in mind this album is a direct reaction against the grand styling of Cassadaga, where he’ll find himself next is certainly due contemplation. Though a new Desaparecidos album might be setting hopes a little too high, hoping for a reclaiming of the edge that so strongly informed works such as his seminal Lifted wouldn’t be wholly untoward.

No matter: tonight, as on the album, sees him indulging and enjoying himself, something difficult to bemoan. No Bright Eyes songs rear their heads (and, from where I’m stood there aren’t any pleading cries for any either), and to these ears – who have lived with the self-titled for some time now – the stature this latest clutch gain in a live scenario is disarming. Weaker moments from the record sound fine indeed (see ‘Get-Well-Cards’), stronger ones positively buoyant – the infectious march of ‘NYC – Gone, Gone’ brings about audience-wide clapping while ‘Souled Out!!!’ makes its entrance on a perfectly judged drum roll – noisier, looser than on record and all the better for it.

And so while it’s a different (less overtly personal or boisterous) performance to the kind Oberst has played in the past – it’s a very, very good one nonetheless. Granted, ‘Everybody’s Talkin” is perhaps a push too far, but given the quality of all that preceded and lies subsequent it’s easily forgivable. A memorable non-album song closes the set entitled ‘Breezy’: finding our man tinkling ivories, “kissing…full of beer, tequila, weed and candy,” and climaxing with the repeated cry “I love you now – and that’s all that matters,” it’s as sweet and remarkable as anything in his oeuvre. “Conor you fucking LEGEND” yelled one audience member earlier this evening – a sentiment thunderous applause, this writer and a none-more-crowded merch-stall echo emphatically.