Conor Oberst @ Manchester Cathedral, 8 July

Our adolescent idols look different through the hazy lens of time. Cult indie-folk philosopher Conor Oberst has mellowed a lot in recent years, phasing out his beloved Bright Eyes moniker to develop his solo career. Oberst’s latest album, the breezy Upside Down Mountain, is a rejuvenating return to the intimate song-writing of his heyday, having lost himself in the cosmic mysticism of Bright Eyes’ farewell The People’s Key and a brief revival of his political punk project Desaparecidos. Will a more laid-back Oberst live up to our mid-2000s memories?

With the stage fog machine’s emissions gathering in the Cathedral’s imposing ceiling, that question lingers in the air as Dawes open proceedings. Led by the Goldsmith brothers, their soulful style of storytelling combines country harmonies with anthemic 70s rock choruses. “We’re D-A-W-E-S, not D-O-O-R-S,” frontman Taylor Goldsmith jokes hopefully, their deference to Jim Morrison’s band being clear. Dawes’ Americana is a little glitzy for the Cathedral’s grandness, the band diving regularly into schmaltzy solos, but they earn respect for aiming for the rafters.

Thankfully that isn’t the last we see of Dawes as they return on stage with Oberst, acting as his backing band for the evening. Explaining his lapsed Catholic upbringing to the crowd, Oberst relishes the opportunity for contrarianism that playing in this gothic locale offers, making typical lyrical mischief in a set that features an apocalyptic No One Would Riot for Less and crosses falling from the sky in People’s Key psych-trip Firewall. As he rattles through classics from Lifted and I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning it feels oddly nostalgic – grown adults at the front shout “We love you Conor!” as if he were the same precocious ‘New Dylan’ from ten years ago.

When Oberst is left alone with his acoustic guitar towards the end of the set, the wistful tap of Cape Canaveral feels more befitting of him than ever. Upside Down Mountain’s songs are calmer, clearer, uncluttered by old restless ambition. “No longer worried about getting bored,” he sings in the gentle waltz of Double Life, and that change only bodes well for this young icon’s longevity.