At the Commodore Ballroom on Friday, April 8

Fans who walked into the Commodore Ballroom on Friday night were immediately faced with a merch table loaded with no fewer than 17 different Bright Eyes CDs, including singles, EPs, and a slew of full-length albums. If anyone needed a reminder of just how much musical ground Conor Oberst and his collaborators have covered over the past decade and a half, that certainly did the trick. And whether you were a fan of the project’s mopey folk origins or its more buoyant, synth-spiked recent work, the evening offered something for everyone.

The festivities began with a fiery performance from New Jersey outfit Titus Andronicus. The group’s distortion-soaked sonic assault was punk in spirit, but this raucous energy was tempered by intricate arrangements and hyperliterate lyrics, which were partly obsessed with the American Civil War, and partly obsessed with one man’s (singer Patrick Stickles) war with the loser within. The band even took a proggy turn on “Forever,” which included bass and drum solos. Those who weren’t won over by the display of technical wizardry warmed to the group after Stickles gave a shout-out to local favourite Japandroids, calling the duo “one of the best bands in the game.”

Following Titus Andronicus’ explosive opening performance, Bright Eyes began its set in more muted fashion, with the spoken-word intro to the newly released The People’s Key playing over the sound system. The stage was framed by two massive flames, which glowed a hellish red as sparks danced on a LED screen that served as a backdrop. When the musicians arrived and eased into the slowly simmering “Firewall,” the smoke machines pumped out fake fog, making the entire stage look like an oversized fire pit.

Backed by six musicians, Oberst soon picked up the energy, blasting through the ultra-catchy “Jejune Stars,” as well as the spiky “Take It Easy (Love Nothing)” from 2005’s Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. The frontman spent these songs standing awkwardly behind the microphone, clutching a blond Telecaster tightly to his chest as if he was using it as a shield. Although he is now in his 30s, the singer looked just like his teenage self, with his floppy fringe hanging down over his wounded, puppy-dog eyes.

Oberst has hinted that he may soon retire his Bright Eyes moniker, which perhaps explains why he spent so much of the set treating the die-hards to old classics and deep cuts. These included the fragile “Going for the Gold” from the obscure 2001 EP Oh Holy Fools, and “Trees Get Wheeled Away” from the rarities compilation Noise Floor.

Oberst seemed almost apologetic when playing newer material, explaining, “We’re going to take a little detour off memory lane,” right before ditching his guitar in favour of a keyboard for “Shell Games.” Without his six-string, he turned into a surprisingly dynamic performer, as he eventually abandoned the ivories to dole out high-fives and lead the crowd in a fist-pumping sing-along.

The indie-rock icon gave keyboardist Laura Burhenn a brief but poignant turn on lead vocals during the haunting “Lover I Don’t Have to Love.” Even more integral to the ensemble’s sound were the two drummers, whose duelling grooves anchored an eclectic and stylistically varied set.

Impressive as the hired help was, this night was all about Oberst. He was fantastically manic on the Beethoven-pilfering “Road to Joy”, and seemingly everyone in the house screamed along to the song’s chaotic crescendo. He could have ended it there and sent the masses home happy, but he opted to close on the more restrained, reflective “One for You, One for Me” from The People’s Key. Oberst dedicated the track to the “secular humanists” in the audience, and even though his antireligious philosophizing would have been a buzz-kill under most circumstances, the enraptured faithful ate up every word.