Apparently the balalaika can only be found in hell, and the viola just doesn’t exist in the afterlife. Or at least that’s what Louis Andriessen seems to think. Thursday April 15th was the New York premiere at Carnegie Hall of the concert version of his opera La Commedia, which was based on portions of Dante’s Divine Comedy as well as a polyglot collection of other texts. The opera was presented in five sections (as opposed to Dante’s original three), three of which were set in hell, including a long episode narrated by a female Dante. The opera itself was fairly plotless, following the basic contours of Dante’s journey through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven but mostly consisting of vignettes sung by individual characters.

The work was performed by the orchestra-like Asko-Schoenberg Ensemble, in conjunction with the talented Synergy Vocals and Brooklyn Youth chorus. Claron McFadden played a luminescent Beatrice while Cristina Zavalloni played an impassioned, seemingly possessed Dante that was accented by stalking around the stage and exaggerated dancing to the music. Jeroen Williams made for a creepy Devil in the third section and a bizarre fast talker in the fourth, while Marcel Beekman sang a lovely aria as Casella from the last box of the first tier.

The piece itself was rather like a Jackson Pollock painting; blotches of jazz here, streaks of dense cluster chords over there, a Broadway finale down at the end. The piece was not a refined intellectual exercise, but rather a hundred sprawling minutes of comedic gestures, sarcasm, dense cluster chords that seemed to lambast the audience, and a collage of the jetsam and flotsam of the classical music world. The work was entertaining, but in the end much of it was not very affecting. There was one brilliantly creepy moment during Lucifer’s aria when he sang (in Dutch) of the new world he was going to create and a gentle pastoral theme played behind him, but it was soon lost in the overwhelming tide of noisy diminished chords that characterized hell. It would have been far more interesting if he had picked up the irony and shock of the moment of Lucifer’s aria.

You have to have been studying abroad on a different planet if you haven’t seen (or at least heard about) the video from 2005’s UltraViolet Live that shows a nascent Lady Gaga (alias Stefani Germanotta) performing. At 2010’s version of the all-school talent show, you could almost hear the question, “Who’s next?” 20 competitors, each representing one of NYU’s residence halls, took to the stage to try and give us an answer. Whether singing Mozart arias or beat boxing, an impressive array of talented performers had their five minutes of fame on Skirball’s stage. Given the talent-show-nature, those who shone the brightest had, like Gaga, a complete act, a novel presence. But regardless of who won, the February 25th show was an entertaining snapshot of the NYU community.

The show was hosted by Derrick Comedy member and NYU alum DC Pierson, who enjoyed making fun of overenthusiastic audience members and overly flirtatious artists. The night started with indie band Winter, North, & Night giving a noisy, vocally passionate rendition of an original song. Kudos went to vocalist Chris Duggan for his expressive and enthusiastic singing. Crowd favorite Martha-Sadie Griffin (after declaring “I’m single, just putting this out there” ) got the crowd going with acoustic versions of rap hits like Jay-Z’s “99 Problems” that showed off her large range and great sense of comedic timing. Guitarist Eric Kim took up the single-and-mingle banner and wooed the audience with his poignant original “Wine.” After a tap dancing interlude by Greenwich Hotel’s Lauren Lashua, classical pianist Francis Guo wowed the audience with his version of Lizst’s virtuosic “La Campanella” and an awesome lace ascot. Carlyle’s Don’t Forget to Write took things down a notch with their mellow, barefoot “Coast to Coast” which included a brilliant use of harmonica and dance. Carissa Matsushima sold the audience on her flirtatious take of the Queen of the Night’s aria from Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Alex Goley and his band (as yet unnamed) played “Don’t Let Me Go Alone” showing off a beautiful voice and indelible mandolin playing. Christian Oreste and Noah Welch thrilled the audience with their acoustic, stripping version of Britney Spear’s “Intoxicated” that included a very well placed moment with a glitter filled bandana. Phoebe Ryan’s band was the most professional-sounding of the night, including a string section, bells, creative lyrics, and overall polished sound, particularly impressive from a freshman. Guitarist Andrew Onore sang an original song with gusto, managing to fill the stage by himself. After David Sangillo’s juggling, Daniel Eiseman gave another polished performance of his song “Tiger” which started off as a piano and vocal number and blossomed into a jam complete with trumpet and sax. Meghan Offtermatt and accompanist Daniel Lee offered a different take on Bob Dylan’s “Make You Feel My Love” that showed off another lovely voice with theater sensibilities. Paolo Bitanga did a little bit of everything. A combination of break dancing, piano playing, singing, and beat-boxing kept the audience guessing. Lionel Yu played an original piano waltz that developed several catchy themes in complex variations. Andrew Flockhart, the ultimate winner, had a great act, escalating from creating simple beats to singing and beat boxing at the same time; just when things couldn’t get any crazier Flockhart pulled out a harmonica and played, sang, and beat boxed at the same time. The crowd went wild, and it came as no surprise that the judges chose him as the winner. To finish off the evening Brother Goose played a mellow composition about the beach with box percussion and strings.

Perhaps in a nod to Lady Gaga, the judges chose the performers of the evening as winners, awarding 2nd place to juggler David Sangillo and 3rd place to poi performer Shaun Sim. Regardless, there’s no doubt several of the performers of the night have more than enough talent to be seen far beyond Skirball’s stage.

Music elitism may very well be a disease running rampant through the metal community. Many metalheads refuse to acknowledge the value of pop music. While this is a huge mistake, it is undeniable that the underground nature of metal presents some excellent advantages. When The Black Dahlia Murder performed at Santos Party House this past March 20th, they gave their audience a show Lady Gaga fans could never hope for.

Exhibit A surfaced before the band even took the stage. Rhythm guitarist Brian Eschbach mingled with the audience while the opening bands played. This set the tone for a very intimate evening.

When the band took the stage, they immediately began acknowledging fans with handshakes and fist pounds. Singer Trevor Strnard even accepted snacks from one enthusiastic female fan. As in most metal shows, as soon as the music started all sense of personal space disappeared. Anyone within the first 20 feet of the stage had very little control over where they were standing, as the crowd swayed violently back and forth. Strnard and Eschbach fed off this energy and frequently got as close to audience members as possible. When Strnard spotted fans that seemed familiar with the lyrics, he regularly grabbed them and screamed the words into their faces.

Crowd surfers had no security guards to catch them and usually ended up on stage next to the band. Many of these fans took the opportunity to sing into the microphone along with the welcoming Strnard, clad in his usual red gym shorts, shirtless with his “heartburn” tattoo splayed across his stomach. While Strnard and Eschbach commanded the attention of the entire venue, bassist Bart Williams and drummer Shannon Lucas stayed casual by keeping away from the limelight (aside from a brief rendition of the opening to Rage’s “Take the Power Back).

The climax of the show came with only two songs left. The band performed “Miasma” as if it were the last time they ever would. Eschbach screamed the lyrics back at fans, sweat dripping from his long hair and eyes clutched tightly closed.

When the show finished, the band humbly packed their own gear and chatted with fans. No contrived encore followed, but none was needed. The audience was sufficiently satisfied

Country music is not what is usually heard drifting through the streets of New York. On February 27, though, that is exactly what crowds were jamming out to at the Terminal 5 venue on 610 W 56th St.

The sold out Texas Independence Day Concert featured country greats Eli Young Band and Pat Green. Both did their state proud by keeping the crowd of mostly Texas Longhorns on their feet and singing up until midnight. Eli Young Band was the second to last to come out, singing favorites such as “That’s the Way,” “Crazy Girl” and “Jet Black & Jealous.” But none brought out the Texas spirit quite like “Small Town Kid.” The crowd swayed back and forth, hands on their hearts and eyes shut, all while mouthing the words of what seemed to be an unofficial anthem of the state where everything is bigger. Front man Mike Eli sang beautifully and never let down except for a minor microphone dropping incident that came off more as endearing than clumsy. He laughed it off while the crowd filled in the words muted by the drop. There is no doubt that the Denton, Texas based band succeeded in connecting with the crowd, but what happened when Pat Green stepped out on stage was incomparable.

“Pat fucking Green! Pat fucking Green! Pat fucking Green!” was all that could be heard as he made his way to center stage with his guitar slung around his neck. The chanting turned to a combination of shrieking, clapping and cheering. While every song performed was a crowd pleaser, “Way Back Texas” and “Feels Like It Should” were definitely the favorites, drawing the most excitement from fans. Green often looked up at the balcony where his wife Kori was watching. He gave her a shout and pointed her out to the fans below who greeted her with more screaming and clapping. At midnight the concert came to a close with one of Green’s most popular songs, “Wave on Wave.” At this point no one in the crowd was silent and it seemed everyone knew the lyrics to this Green classic. Girls were hoisted up on their fellows’ backs, friends stood with arms linked and couples held each other close, enjoying the last bit of the performance.

Then it was all over and all that was left in the venue was a long bathroom line and a sea of empty, plastic beer cups. As most people stumbled out onto the streets they sang their favorite songs of the South, keeping the country spirit alive until the wee hours of the morning. Texas certainly had its night in New York City.

A couple of weeks ago I saw the Dropkick Murphys in New Jersey. It was my fifth time seeing them in three years, and despite a revamped setlist and an increasingly impressive set design, the experience remained basically the same: everyone in the place knew the words to every single song the boys sang, fans jumped onstage at various points in the show to fraternize with the group, singer/bassist Ken Casey posed for iPhone photos at the end, and lead singer Al Barr took the time to yell at a guard for manhandling an errant crowd-surfer, only to later reach out mid-song and shake the guy’s hand by way of a man-to-man truce.

Direct interaction with the crowd? A singer yelling “hey, Glasses! Let go of the kid!!!”? People literally piling up onstage alongside the band for the grand finale?

Try seeing something like that at a Britney Spears show.

Call it the Cult Band Phenomenon. You take a group without a big mainstream following. Maybe they’ve got a decent hit or two; maybe their song was used in a movie or in Madden 07 or something like that. Whatever the case, they’re well-known enough that you can hum their signature tune and people will have heard of it (but probably not the band). But for the most part, these bands’ fandom spreads by word of mouth. Groups like the Dillinger Escape Plan, the Gaslight Anthem, the Script, Theory of a Deadman, and a whole lot of others I can’t name off the top of my head.

Ever hear of them? Chances are, no. Every so often, a cult band makes it big, like Phish or the Grateful Dead. But for the most part, they keep bubbling just below the radar. The Murphys, for example, tour almost nonstop and maintain a fantastic, almost co-dependent relationship with their fans to keep themselves relevant. Their last studio album came out two and a half years ago (although they did just put out a hell of a live album).

They may never fill up Madison Square Garden on their own, but the news of another show couldn’t be better for the fans. Every time I want to see U2 or Springsteen, it runs me an arm and a leg. When the Murphys come to town, it costs all of 30 bucks, give or take, to go to the show. And I’d say I like all three of those acts more or less equally, so in essence I get to see one of my three favorite bands for roughly one-third the cost of another.

Besides the fact that it’s easier on your wallet, as a fan of a cult band you always know you’re in for a good experience with the crowd. No one’s there for the pedigree, of being able to say “I saw So-and-So!” Everyone there either loves the band or was sold on the idea by a friend, so they really get into it. If the band in question has a heavier sound, there’s a lot of male bonding going on, too. You’ll get punched in the face by some 200-lb drunk guy and be doing one of those plastered, back-and-forth sways with him not ten minutes later once your favorite song comes on. Come to think of it, you might get the same experience with a woman as well. And for the most part, the venues are intimate, so there aren’t really any bad seats in the house.

At a Big Band show, even if you’re on the floor, the whole thing is so regulated and controlled there’s barely any spontaneity, even from the band. The setlists are uniform; a parade of hits one after the other. The best thing about cult band concerts is that these guys have the freedom to be loose and random with their shows. There’s no pressure to play the hits, because everyone there knows them already. You’ll almost always come away with an interesting story from a cult band show. And if you happen to catch one of those elbows to the head and take a nasty spill, everyone around you will literally stop what they’re doing and hoist you up off the ground. It’s incredible.

They do it because you’re one of the guys. You’re on the bandwagon, You’ve drank the Kool-Aid. Together, you’re all practically with the band.

Everyone wins.

MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, FRIDAY MARCH 5TH

By Chris Ramirez

If Muse had not earned the title of “one of the best live performers” before, they earned it on Friday March 5, where the bands show at Madison Square Garden was nothing short of awe striking, spontaneous, and visually bedazzling.

The Resistance Tour, which supports Muse’s most recent album, 2009’s “Resistance,” has it all, from big screens and green laser lights to elevating floors, and even a keytar. Yes, a keytar! Oh yeah, and there were eyeballs! Giant eyeball balloons, filled with confetti, that were released from the ceiling during the exhilarating “Plug In Baby.”

The performance began with a curtain drop, revealing all three members standing on separate elevated square platforms on stage. The platforms, and head screens above, doubled as blow up screens and mainly showed visuals of the band. At the apex of cheers and clapping, they broke into the fist-pumping “Uprising.”

After two songs, “The Resistance Tour” took a quick turn as they regressed back to their older catalogue, playing their 2001 single “New Born.”

Throughout the rest of the show Muse’s setlist was well mixed, with the new, “MK Ultra,” Exogenesis,” and “United States of Eurasia,” and the old, “Time is Running Out,” and “Map of the Problematique.” The most impressive acts were the harder numbers and popular singles, “Hysteria,” “Starlight,” and the sing-along encore “Knights of Cydonia.”

The most important piece of the show was guitarist/singer Matthew Bellamy. On a large circular black stage with 360˚ visibility the fans witnessed Bellamy’s spunky energy, running, jumping, spinning in circles, and playing guitar while sliding across floors.

Most surprising was Bellamy’s voice. Often over layered and crowded out, Bellamy’s voice usually comes second to the music in an album. Live, however, his voice, who would have thought, is quite impressive! He even hit the high notes during “Knights of Cydonia,” with perfect accord. Bellamy’s voice is a hidden weapon for the group; and it’s a shame he doesn’t utilize it the same way in an album.

Muse’s other members, bassist Christopher Wolstenholme and drummer Dominic Howard, were just as energetic. Wolstenholme gave every part of the audience as equal attention as Bellamy. Howard, stuck behind a drum set, was positioned on a spinning platform that would turn him towards every direction.

Howard is the fans’ energy incarnate. His fierce and energetic drumming is the dark-pounding heart and soul of Muse’s live performance. His connection with the crowd is most apparent when he talks to the audience with a smile full of joy and eagerness.

Definitely a must-see, with no need to worry about being entertained; you will be captivated. In fact, the only people that should worry are Muse, who might be wondering how they will match this performance next time around.

The Warm-up was electric rock band Silversun Pickups. And Yes, Brian Aubert’s voice is just as scratchy live. But with such melodic rock music, it’s the scratchy-ness that keeps you from getting completely lost in the dreams of the music and makes you pay attention to the lyrics as well, which is nice.

Lady Gaga glowed onstage, kicking off the last leg of “The Monster Ball Tour” and her final night at Radio City Music Hall on January 24.

Wearing a flesh-colored costume adorned with lights, she opened the show with the song, “Dance in the Dark”. Gaga doppelgangers, mothers and their daughters and Whoopi Goldberg were among her fans or “little monsters” as she calls them.

They danced and sang along as she delivered her smash singles, “Poker Face”, “Paparazzi”, and of course, “Just Dance”. These songs all have that can’t-get-it-out-my-head quality, but what some might forget is that this girl has talent.

She showcased a dexterous command of the piano while belting out her beautiful ballad, “Speechless.” Each note and every poignant pause possessed power, proving professional prowess. Lady Gaga dedicated this song to the victims of the earthquake in Haiti to whom every cent made from the day’s ticket, merchandise and online sales was being donated.

She sometimes veered toward more provocative territory. At one point, she clenched her fist and moved it back and forth below her waist.

With numerous costume changes, including a golden ensemble with a Cleopatra-esque headdress, stellar stage setups and tremendous talent, Lady Gaga entertained – and was meant to. During an acoustic performance of “Poker Face,” she mentioned that she no longer “waits tables on Cornelia Street.” She made it all the way to the Avenue of Americas between 50th and 51st Street. Radio City Music Hall.

As the last notes of Randall Woolf’s Motor City Requiem faded away, one couldn’t help but admire his clever, effective use of electronics with piano and string quartet. The samples from Motown songs and beats evoked the dynamics of a bustling city, and as they faded away, leaving only a mournful violin melody over a droning string background, one could see the city fading. Of course, for Mr. Woolf, the use of electronics and influences from other genres to shape the landscape of his pieces is nothing new. However, each of the four pieces members of the Brooklyn Philharmonic performed January 24th as part of the Music Off the Walls series at the Brooklyn Museum showed what diverse results can arise from similar methods. As Mr. Woolf explained in later conversation, he rarely does the same thing twice. This has led to projects like composing a ballet based on Where the Wild Things Are in 1997 and premiering a concerto for rappers and orchestra in Chicago later this year. It has also lead to Mr. Woolf’s position as composer mentor to the Brooklyn Philharmonic’s unorthodox composer fellows- hiphop DJ Evan Vytal and jazz bassist Ryan Brown.

January 24th’s offering was the first in a series curated by these three composers based around a particular gallery at the Brooklyn Museum. Mr. Woolf took Patricia Cronin’s realization of unfinished works of artist Harriet Hosmer as his inspiration to create a concert entitled “Distant Partners, Distant Portraits.” Each work on the program was a collaboration between Mr. Woolf and artists he had never met.

Motor City Requiem was composed for Woolf’s hometown of Detroit, a Motown-inspired piece that mourned the city that once was. Woolf listened to lots of Motown both to find samples and to become familiar with the style so that he could compose a piece based around it. He went back and forth between many different samples, before the right ones fell into place and were orchestrated (back to back, the samples only occupy 20 seconds!) What is interesting in this piece is that the relationship between the live musicians and the electronic sounds is constantly shifting. At the beginning of the piece it seems as if the musicians are accompanying single words (“and”, “please”, “away”), while later there is a call and answer, or the sounds are just part of the background. The quintet part changes between fast dance parts and slow ballads, all strongly in the style of Motown. Woolf, who used to play rock and jazz, considers “classical” a way to prescribe everything that is usually improvised in other genres. While he admits that something is lost in this approach, the cohesion of one person’s vision makes for strong pieces. Although he approaches every piece from a classical perspective, he aims to blur genres instead of forcing one into the box of another. The effect, in this piece, is a fusion of the best of both worlds.

The second piece on the program was Franz Schubert, for string quartet. The piece was inspired by Franz Schubert’s sonatas that successfully integrated songs into strict classical form. Feeling that melody is largely lacking from most modern music, Woolf decided to create a piece that had a minimalist texture but strong melodies. He played around with several different melodies before finding a seamless structure that combined singable melodies with a dense, minimal background. The piece was something of a departure for Woolf in that it involves no electronics. It surprised him that this is becoming one of his most frequently performed pieces though it involves no electronics, proving that it can be difficult to gauge what audiences appreciate. Woolf tries to consider the audience when he composes while staying true to his own aesthetic, though he would not write music that no one likes. Franz Schubert proved successful at achieving Woolf’s vision while also being likable and refreshing.

Played between these pieces was a performance of Debussy’s Hommage a Rameau, itself an interaction between artists, which was then remixed live by pianist Kathleen Supove, bassist Ryan Brown and DJ Evan Vytal. The performance, Woolf’s brainchild, took influences from jazz, hiphop, and modern music, mixing them together to create otherworldly and occasionally sublime reworkings. While jazz and classical music have a history of crossover, it was quite interesting to see a DJ in the mix. Woolf described himself as “rabid” about the turntable and lamented the lack of DJs in classical music. Many DJs he knows are interested in classical music, and Woolf is working on a system of notation so that DJ’s might be better incorporated into the classical music world.

The final piece on the program, Revenge! was a live film score accompaniment to the first stop-animation film created in 1912 by Ladislav Starevich, entitled The Cameraman’s Revenge. After watching the film several times, Woolf decided to compose a tragic and dramatic score, as opposed to the cartoonish Klezmer-style music other composers had used. Writing a score to an already established film as opposed to creating film for a piece was a challenge for Woolf, though the already established contours did cut down on the number of decisions that needed to be made. Unfortunately, the performance was slightly marred by technical problems, but for Woolf that is part of the struggle to integrate electronics into classical music. While electronics are easy to use with the right setup, that set up almost never exists and Woolf has struggled with everything from finding extension cords to malfunctioning click tracks. As he philosophically stated, “anything you don’t do over and over has problems.” However, the expansion of sonorities that occurs when electronics are added as well as joy of experiencing something new and unexplored make the technical difficulties worth the pain.

Mr. Woolf’s compositions have the unique quality of being both stimulating and accessible for those who shy away from modern music. Check out www.randallwoolf.com.

The opening song of any show can usually tell you a lot about the rest of the set list. When Chevelle opened with “Sleep Apnea” at Irving Plaza this past Feb 9th, a show primarily consisting of songs off the recently released “Sci-Fi Crimes” seemed inevitable. The pattern, fortunately, did not hold up.

Pete Loeffler, front man for the band, admitted that they had not played in New York for a very long time. The crowd was excited to hear any set at all, but the energy started out low and the opening moments were plagued by half-hearted sing-a-longs of lyrics yet to be memorized. The crowd’s energy picked up during “Vitamin R,” and by the time the band was ready to play tracks off of “Wonder What’s Next,” probably Chevelle’s most beloved album, the audience was already sold. “Family System” came five or six songs later than most expected, but it was well worth the wait.

Loeffler even decided to adjust the set list twice, acknowledging the crowd’s preference for older and heavier songs. Loeffler demonstrated a superb ability to control the crowd despite being significantly less energetic than the stereotypical hard-rock front man. Like a calm and collective captain, Loeffler led the crowd through spectacular renditions of “An Evening With El Diablo” and “Emotional Drought.” Loeffler did not need to jump around. The audience was energetic enough on their own, making the crowded floor disappear under a constantly shifting wave of fans.

The band remained as mystic and distant as they do on their recordings, keeping the same odd, roughly interpreted intimacy they feature in their albums. The band almost seemed surprised by the amount of energy they were receiving from the fans but used it to create a commanding and memorable performance.

Then again, Jay and his new backing band (the old one quit on him in October) were competing against a band that’s already got their legacy firmly entrenched. Like many bands in the opening slot, the vast majority of the crowd in the Hammerstein Ballroom wasn’t there to see them, but rather, a reunion of one of the most important and influential bands of the past twenty-five years. Moreover, that aforementioned band was playing its arguably most beloved work, start to finish, complete with all of its B-sides. This wasn’t just a reunion, it was a victory lap.

And so, with the outcome predetermined, Jay and the new Reatards got on stage and played one of the most aggressive sets that I’ve ever seen. They played for just under 40 minutes; they may have blasted through 20 full songs. There was no stage banter, and there was rarely a lull. Instead, Jay would ramp his way through a song, let loose a blast of feedback, bark out the title of the next song, and, with little more warning than that, immediately get into the next. Breathless isn’t quite the word.

Sadly, his energy wasn’t echoed by the crowd, since most of the spectators were there for the main event. They looked anxious for the Pixies to go on; by contrast, Jay looked a little uneasy with the size of the enormous stage he was standing on. It was far from the ideal setting to see Reatard, and if at all possible, I cannot urge you enough to see him at one of his own shows.

And, umm, yeah, Pixies.

There isn’t really much else that needs to be said about the tour at this point, since everyone vaguely knows the story. The Cliff’s notes go like this: the band was a creative force in the late 1980s, released two more albums and then broke up in 1993. More than a decade later, they reunited and have been doing infrequent appearances at festivals ever since, despite only recording one new song since their reunion (2004’s “Bam Thwok,” rejected for the Shrek 2 soundtrack).

After seeing them this go-around, I’m still not sure if they even like each other. The band stayed in their respective quadrants of the stage through the entire show, and there might have been ten words spoken between them. In fact, the only person that I saw crack a smile on stage was bassist Kim Deal. This uneasy peace between the band members translated into a bit of an awkward start, especially with the show’s start: an introductory projection of Salvatore Dali’s surrealist film Un chien andalou (“SLICIN’ UP EYEBALLS, I WANT YOU TO KNOOOOOOOW!”) and four B-sides, each separated by some clumsy Deal schtick (“This is a B-side so old even we had to relearn it!”).

But once the bass intro and shrill chords of “Debaser” rang out, it wasn’t hard to remember what warranted this victory lap in the first place. After all, Doolittle still holds up 20 years later, a brisk 38 minutes that moves effortlessly across musical styles but never feels unfocused. Even more importantly, unlike a lot of bands that decide to reunite, the Pixies showed no real signs of decline. All of the instrumentation sounded great; more importantly, Black Francis’s alternate screaming and whispers sound just as urgent as they were twenty years before.

Those who like their live acts to do a bit of improvisation may have left this show disappointed: the first twenty-one songs of the set (all of Doolittle’s tracks and B-sides) have been set in stone from night one, and they were essentially note-for-note renditions. And on this particular night, the second of four shows in New York on this tour, the encore was slightly lackluster as well, at least by comparison to the previous night’s monster ending of “Where Is My Mind?” and “Gigantic.”

Night two’s crowd was rewarded with a spastic rendition of goofy Surfer Rosa track “Broken Face,” as well as underrated early track “Caribou.” By that point, it really wouldn’t have mattered, as the crowd was more than satisfied. After all, Doolittle, one year away from drinking age, is an adult now. It can speak for itself.