Bright Eyes

The Pennsylvania College of Optometry has announced a multi-year program aimed at providing free vision screenings for children and adults at schools throughout the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. The program, announced to coincide with the college's Save Your Vision Month campaign was launched with screenings of students and teachers from the Gesu School in North Philadelphia. The program targets some 40,000 Catholic school children and their parents for screenings over the next several years.

Conor Oberst began growing up in public when he was 14 years old and established himself as a songwriting wunderkind with the band Commander Venus. And even when he was a boy, Oberst was a serious man. That's still true of the word slinger from Omaha, Neb., now 31, whose band Bright Eyes headlined a bill that also included M. Ward and Dawes at the Mann Center for the Performing Arts in Fairmount Park on Friday. Bright Eyes' nearly 21/2-hour, not-so-well-paced, career-spanning set reached back to 2000's Fevers and Mirrors for "The Calendar Hung Itself" and "Something Vague," but was rooted in The People's Key , the songwriter's first album under the Bright Eyes rubric since 2007.

When Conor Oberst, who performs as Bright Eyes, played the Trocadero a year ago, a worshipful crowd of sensitive young people stood rapt at attention, sighing each time the guitarist's voice got caught in his throat. Eight months later, Oberst was back in Philadelphia with the Vote for Change tour at the Wachovia Center, playing before a crowd of Bruce Springsteen-loving old people, most of whom had no idea who Bright Eyes was. The floppy-haired singer shook his maracas and, alongside Spring?steen and Michael Stipe, poured his idealistic heart into anthems like Nick Lowe's "(What's So Funny 'Bout)

Conor Oberst and Devendra Banhart, two celebrated, quavery-voiced songwriters, each in his early 20s, write stream-of-consciousness lyrics but with contrasting results: Where Oberst is expansive, Banhart is cryptic. Nebraska's Oberst, who will bring his band Bright Eyes to the Trocadero on Monday, is a veteran; the 23-year-old has been releasing songs since he was 13. Oberst writes as if he can't keep up with all the words in his brain. His lyrics scan in paragraphs rather than lines and rattle though verse after self-conscious verse.

The most imaginative between-song shout-out from the audience at the Bright Eyes show at the sold-out Academy of Music on Friday: "I don't love you, Conor. " But everybody else in the teenaged-to-twentysomething crowd did, it seemed. And what's not to love? Conor Oberst, who performs as Bright Eyes - this time with a six-piece band that featured chief musical collaborator Mike Mogis on lap steel and mandolin - has been anointed the rock-poet it-boy of the moment, and with good reason.

On Monday at the Trocadero, the response of the sold-out, all-ages crowd to Bright Eyes and leader Conor Oberst felt ceremonial. Each song - the quivering "One Foot," the rumbling "A New Arrangement" - was greeted with a quietness usually reserved for whispered secrets. Bright Eyes' brand of aggressive though romantic imagery verges on being over the top. But as a lyricist and singer, Oberst avoids too much sentimentality, and ends up as cutting as early Dylan. At the Troc, he was flowery yet incisive, sounding like Robert Smith without the ironic ire, and remaining reserved as he bore down through the tribal drums and carnival organs of "The Calendar Hung Itself.

Those Darlins Those Darlins routinely get labeled as a cowpunk or alt-country band, but that's mainly because they hail from Tennessee and drop the"g" from the last word of their excellent name. Actually, darlin', what the fab foursome of front women Nikki, Jessi, and Kelley Darlin and drummer Linwood Regensburg are is a trashy garage rock band with more in common with Joan Jett and the Ramones than Dolly Parton. The Darlins' second full-length album, Screws Get Loose, expands the group's range from the stoner blues of "Mystic Mind" to the girl-group grabbiness of "Tina Said" and "Boy," and the songwriting quality is uniformly high throughout the tight, tough, 11-song set. Fellow Nashville garage band Natural Child are along for the ride.

Monday night's show at the Trocadero was billed as an indie-rock songwriter round-robin, a chance to hear Conor Oberst, the earnest young leader of Omaha's critically acclaimed Bright Eyes, mix things up with Oregon troubadour M. Ward, and Jim James, lead singer of Kentucky rockers My Morning Jacket. It was that and more. For nearly three hours, through song after graceful song about budding romance and its lonesome aftermath, these wunderkinder helped each other recast and thoroughly reanimate their works.

Bright Eyes front guy Conor Oberst made his initial mark with bruised and bitter, angsty and romantic adolescent confessionals. Songs folksily strummed and alt-rocking, packed with dense, stream-of-conscious imagery that searched the dark streets, bedrooms and corridors of power (as well as his soul) for meaning. And often came up short, with unbridled anger at a world out of his control. Now he's 31, though, and wiser to the big-picture realities. Oberst has learned to make a career as well as a calling of his work.

Conor Oberst's songs burst with poetic images, psychological turmoil, and literate wordplay, and they often fume with frustrations. During his nearly two-hour set Monday night at Wilmington's Grand Opera House, Oberst - who records and performs as Bright Eyes - sang his wordy songs in paragraphs rather than verses. In the past, Oberst has played the role of a tortured artist: His raw-nerved introspection on albums released during his teenage years created a cult following. But recently, the 27-year-old has begun to look outward as well as inward, and he's become even better.

Conor Oberst began growing up in public when he was 14 years old and established himself as a songwriting wunderkind with the band Commander Venus. And even when he was a boy, Oberst was a serious man. That's still true of the word slinger from Omaha, Neb., now 31, whose band Bright Eyes headlined a bill that also included M. Ward and Dawes at the Mann Center for the Performing Arts in Fairmount Park on Friday. Bright Eyes' nearly 21/2-hour, not-so-well-paced, career-spanning set reached back to 2000's Fevers and Mirrors for "The Calendar Hung Itself" and "Something Vague," but was rooted in The People's Key , the songwriter's first album under the Bright Eyes rubric since 2007.

Those Darlins Those Darlins routinely get labeled as a cowpunk or alt-country band, but that's mainly because they hail from Tennessee and drop the"g" from the last word of their excellent name. Actually, darlin', what the fab foursome of front women Nikki, Jessi, and Kelley Darlin and drummer Linwood Regensburg are is a trashy garage rock band with more in common with Joan Jett and the Ramones than Dolly Parton. The Darlins' second full-length album, Screws Get Loose, expands the group's range from the stoner blues of "Mystic Mind" to the girl-group grabbiness of "Tina Said" and "Boy," and the songwriting quality is uniformly high throughout the tight, tough, 11-song set. Fellow Nashville garage band Natural Child are along for the ride.

Bright Eyes front guy Conor Oberst made his initial mark with bruised and bitter, angsty and romantic adolescent confessionals. Songs folksily strummed and alt-rocking, packed with dense, stream-of-conscious imagery that searched the dark streets, bedrooms and corridors of power (as well as his soul) for meaning. And often came up short, with unbridled anger at a world out of his control. Now he's 31, though, and wiser to the big-picture realities. Oberst has learned to make a career as well as a calling of his work.

Touring with Jim James, M. Ward, and Mike Mogis in the indie super group Monsters of Folk has been like "a fantasy, an erotic dream" for Conor Oberst. The acclaimed songwriter doesn't mean that in a kinky way, though these Monsters - who will don shiny suits to play the Academy of Music Monday in support of their self-titled debut album - showed a talent for role playing by dressing up as Kiss in Louisville on Halloween. The Omaha singer/guitarist is simply saying the spotlight-sharing shows have been thoroughly gratifying for all. This week, Oberst and James - the singer for the Louisville rock band My Morning Jacket with the celestial sans vibrato voice - sat together for a speakerphone chat backstage from Toronto's Massey Hall.

Perez Hilton Presents. Online gossip maven Perez Hilton has been sticking his nose in the music business for a few years now, whether bad-mouthing Lily Allen, squabbling with the Black Eyed Peas' will.i.am at awards shows, or championing artists, some on his own music label. Hilton brings his first tour to Philadelphia tonight, highlighted by the divine Norwegian rock powerhouse Ida Maria. (At the TLA Sept. 13) Kid Cudi/Wale. This pair of verbally gifted, new-school MCs, from urban centers without long histories of hip-hop heroism, finally move from mixtapes to official releases this fall.

Live music and more, tonight through Thursday, compiled by Tom Di Nardo, Shaun Brady, Sara Sherr, Jonathan Takiff and Damon C. Williams. POP Squeeze: Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook have been tempted by the fruit of their previous identity. Isn't it strange how the same music attracts a much bigger audience, when served under a more familiar brand name? (See, also, Sting versus the Police, Conor Oberst vs. Bright Eyes and Pete Townshend vs. the Who.) Keswick Theatre, Easton Road and Keswick Avenue, Glenside, 8 tonight, $39.50 & $49.50, 215-572-7650, www.keswicktheatre.

It seemed oddly logical when Conor Oberst sold out the Trocadero on Monday night. Not the sellout part. Oberst - the doe-eyed, whip-smart singer/songwriter of Bright Eyes touring on the heels of his newly released solo album - sells out everywhere. It just seemed a sweetly perfect part of America's folk music continuum to have the deeply poetic Oberst in Philly days after Pete Seeger played World Cafe Live and Bob Dylan gigged at Electric Factory - a true generational moment for the singer/songwriter movement.

Come get some sugar, roll the stones and focus your bright eyes with this week's new music CD and DVD releases. BUZZ BAND: With a couple of platinum (million-plus selling) albums already out, the media's giving a lot of love to the new, third album by Sugarland , "Love on the Inside" (Mercury Nashville, B+) . Fronted by Jennifer Nettles and Kristian Bush, they're kind of a co-ed Dixie Chicks minus the political underpinnings. That's to say, this is a country band that leans more on the "alt" side of the scene that's also informed by rock 'n' roll and reaching out to people who don't necessarily adore mainstream country music, as well as those who do. Nettles' heavily Georgia-accented twang is the most old-school aspect of their sound.

Conor Oberst's songs burst with poetic images, psychological turmoil, and literate wordplay, and they often fume with frustrations. During his nearly two-hour set Monday night at Wilmington's Grand Opera House, Oberst - who records and performs as Bright Eyes - sang his wordy songs in paragraphs rather than verses. In the past, Oberst has played the role of a tortured artist: His raw-nerved introspection on albums released during his teenage years created a cult following. But recently, the 27-year-old has begun to look outward as well as inward, and he's become even better.

Conor Oberst has been making records since he was 14, so at the ripe old age of 27, he's entitled to his mid-career crisis. On Cassadaga (. ), the new album by the Omaha, Neb., singer-songwriter who performs, with a rotating cast of musicians, as Bright Eyes, the indie oracle worries that after all these years in the business, he's become a mere professional, nothing more than a hack. "I had a lengthy discussion about the power of myth with a postmodern author who didn't exist," Oberst sings on "Soul Singer in a Session Band," an Irish waltz about the confessional entertainer's task of manufacturing emotion on demand.