I still remember watching Conor Oberst puke up wine (and possibly blood) at Sokol Auditorium in Omaha in 2003. He was sick and his voice was failing. It gave out completely during The Calendar Hung Itself. The crowd sang when he couldn’t, which seemed to annoy him more than anything else. Chris Carrabba he is not. Eventually, disgusted with both his inability to sing and the girls screaming their love for him, he smashed his acoustic guitar again and again into the stage and walked off. He played maybe seven or eight songs. And it was awesome.

This song reminds me of that show. I hope they play it Monday at First Ave.