Wild Flag at Union Transfer.

It was a night for new beginnings in Philadelphia Wed., Oct. 19, as indie rock supergroup Wild Flag and a new band from Fiery Furnaces member Eleanor Friedberger cut loose on a crowd gathered at the month-old venue Union Transfer. For all the newness, though, it ended up being a night for older classic sounds. Either way, it was a good show.

Union Transfer, a new 600-capacity venue located in the old Spaghetti Warehouse on 10th and Spring Garden, is a joint partnership from Philly locals R5 Productions and Four Corners Management and New York City group Bowery Presents. In other words, no Live Nation, and that’s a good thing. The space has tons of room to move, but it’s not so large that it kills intimacy. There’s plenty room for drunks at the bars. Hell, there’s a bar in a whole other room, so hopefully people who come to concerts just to drink can get their fill without pissing off other attendees. The sound is a little dubious – muddled and bass-heavy – but that’s pretty much standard for a venue this size. Union Transfer is still independent and pretty cool. Also, they have a reasonably priced parking lot.

I had plenty of time to note Union Transfer’s layout (three bars!), as Friedberger took the stage about 50 minutes after her advertised start time. Supported by an ace backing band, she played through some easy going soft tunes that bordered on the Fleetwood Mac side of the rock ‘n’ roll spectrum. When the band got to grooving, the tunes were actually quite beautiful, but after a while Friedberger’s songs kind of blurred together for me. She has a tendency to repeat phrases just a little too much (“It’s a critical year / 2010” comes to mind), and several tunes felt too slow. While her latest material has a ’70s vibe, it still felt like an odd choice for pairing with Wild Flag’s looser, louder tendencies.

While there are still some records to look forward to this year, Wild Flag is easily one of the best albums of 2011. It’s fun and loud and awesome. Yet Wild Flag’s live show puts that record to shame. Everything Wild Flag does well in the studio, they do even better live. When Carrie Brownstein, Rebecca Cole, Mary Timony and Janet Weiss came on stage, they proceeded to have a whole lot of fun for 60-plus minutes while rocking faces off. Their tunes were more psychedelic, complemented by all manner of guitar poses ranging from high kicks to windmills. Timony even played behind her head at one point. Weiss and Cole’s cooed backing vocals were spot on throughout. The stage banter was hilarious (“There are so many steps to a stage dive, and they all end in the hospital,” said Brownstein. “This is like a Fugazi show,” responded Dischord alumnus Timony).

With only one 40-minute full-length to their credit, the biggest challenge the fearsome foursome faced in headlining this show was filling time. They certainly met that challenge head on with stage banter, covers (including an excellent take on Television’s “See No Evil” during the two-song encore) and a couple of new tracks. They also jammed the dickens out of the tunes “Glass Tambourine” and “Racehorse.” I wasn’t tracking it, but I’m pretty sure “Racehorse” went on for at least 15 minutes. There were like five guitar solos. The recorded version is just under seven minutes, and it actually sounds a little empty to me now, simply because the band so thoroughly explored its every nook and/or cranny live. Yet for all its freewheeling, rambling quality, “Racehorse” came off as a tightly written piece, with the members locked into each other the whole time. Yeah, it was a long-ass song, but it was a good one, building up and releasing tension several times over. Simply put, the Wild Flag tour needs to be seen by all. The gals are funny and furious in equal measure, and the tunes deliver some fine psychedelia.

Maritime and The Life and Times at Johnny Brenda's

With a spiffy new record out this year, Maritime came to Johnny Brenda’s in Philadelphia Oct. 13 with three goals: Drink some beers, talk about baseball and maybe play the occasional song. The guys were hilarious throughout their hour-plus set, and they even brought along some solid openers in Deleted Scenes and The Life and Times.

First though, the crowd had to get through an awkward bonus set from Victor Villarreal (ex-Cap’n Jazz/Joan of Arc). Villarreal was gearing up for a tour of his own, so he opted to test out some new material with just an acoustic guitar and a tambourine. While his guitar playing was both proficient and often beautiful, Villarreal’s unfamiliarity with his own songs led to a lot of weird stops/starts while he tried to play along with his notebook. People never quite knew when to clap. Dude trotted out a solid cover of Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill,” though.

Up-and-comers Deleted Scenes kicked things up a notch though. Spastic and electrifying a la XTC and Dismemberment Plan, the band tore at their instruments with a terrifying urgency. Everyone in this band is really good at what they do. Drummer Brian Hospital dropped insane beats with force; the guy really didn’t even need to be miked. Bassist Matt Dowling took on extra duties with back-up vox and keyboards, while Dominic Campanaro opted for just keys ‘n’ guitar. Then there was Daniel Scheuerman. Scheuerman’s guitar playing had a percussive feel to it that gave the group’s indie dance rock some extra grit. As a vocalist, he wasn’t afraid to shriek or cry out in a childlike voice before dropping to a bark. Deleted Scenes took me by surprise and made me a fan of their new record, Young People’s Church of the Air.

To be honest, I wasn’t too keen on The Life and Times. After listening to Deleted Scenes’ angular tunes, TLAT came off as robotic post-rock. Drummer Chris Metcalf sported a Russian Circles shirt, and it’s clear that group is an influence. But the crowd really, really liked them. A couple of people were air drumming. Even more people were head bobbing in unison as the band sliced through one pseudo-shoegaze/indie rock tune after another.

When I think of Maritime, I think lush, atmospheric pop rock. Perhaps inspired by the openers, Maritime instead brought the rock hard. They kicked off their set with “For Science Fiction,” off of 2007’s Heresy and the Hotel Choir, and from then on out they just kept ripping through numbers from across their discography. With the exception of “The Window is the Door” during the encore, the band rarely let up. Frontman Davey von Bohlen was constantly dancing on stage, while drummer/keyboardist Dan Didier amped up the tunes a couple of notches.

They were just as entertaining in between songs, though. von Bohlen has been in a ton of bands (The Promise Ring, Cap’n Jazz, Vermont), so he’s got experience working crowds. He told jokes and stories while tuning, whether it was discussing the pros and cons of Paul Simon playing “Cecilia” twice in a row live or just dropping baseball commentary. He was also a good listener as well; when a fan called out for “Annihilation Eyes,” off the group’s stellar latest album Human Hearts, von Bohlen chucked the setlist and delivered.

Personally, I was most stoked to hear new material like “It’s Casual” and “Air Arizona” live, although the crowd also went off for older tunes like “Guns of Navarone.” After a 60-minute set and three-song encore, Maritime bowed out to applause and (presumably) more beers ‘n’ baseball.

Big Business and Torche at the First Unitarian Church

Welp, that was loud. Big Business, Torche and Helms Alee dropped a metric ton of sludge rock on Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church Tues., July 19. For all the muddled low end, though, each band brought a different aspect to the style, resulting in a show that never got tiresome and certainly kept the crowd up in arms (Relatively speaking; outside of Big Business, people didn’t really move around all that much).

Washington’s Helms Alee opted to kick off the show by being the loudest band. It was loud when guitarist Ben Verellen (ex-These Arms are Snakes) plugged in. When drummer Hozoji Margullis started tearing through her kit in a tribal/metal fit, it got louder. But when bassist Dana James finally brought the low end, that’s when my molecules starting rearranging. Helms Alee is a power trio for sure, and no one element could truly take precedence over the rest, but James’ bass sure did kick my ass.

Helms Alee got a good reaction from the crowd; Torche got a great one, and it became clear which band the audience was most excited to see. But to be honest, it was a little awkward transitioning from Helms Alee’s co-ed tech sludge to Torche’s brand of metal, which somehow manages to be both more drone- and more power metal-oriented at the same time. It took my ears a second or two to adjust all the 4/4 going on, but it wasn’t long before I was on board with “the hits” from Meanderthal and last year's most excellent Songs For Singles, just like everyone else.

Despite a slight reduction in crowd size following Torche’s set, headliner Big Business still played the best overall. They were funny (“Let’s harvest our body heat for energy!”), they were rocking and top of that, drummer Coady Willis sported a sweet headset mic/drumming gloves combo. Helms Alee and Torche didn’t interact much with the crowd, but Big Business bassist/vocalist Jared Warren was all about sharing mic duties with the fans, occasionally dipping into the crowd to spread the rock around. The group played a solid set that drew from all three albums, as well as their new self-released effort, Quadruple Single.

While the sound in the Church basement was a bit muddled, that actually suited the musical style, allowing the dissonance the three bands favor to be cultivated even further. Clearly, everyone in attendance was satisfied, and the merch tables were flooded after the show ended. It was loud, but a good kind of loud.

The Flatliners and The Holy Mess at The Fire

Not to get all “when the punx are united” or anything, but the crowd assembled for the Flatliners/Holy Mess show at Philadelphia’s The Fire Tues., June 14 was a great one in spite of technical issues throughout the night. Kids got rowdy without getting masochistic. There was much singing and back-patting. Also drinking. We did a lot of drinking.

Even without the social lubrication of Yards ‘n’ Schmidt’s, this was a good show. Local act Ah, Horse Hockey kicked off the night with a rousing round of Latterman-esque punk. It was fun posi stuff; I just wish the band had gotten a tighter lock on its tuning. It felt like every song would end to big applause, only to have any audience momentum lost by the guitarists retuning. Emo act Daytrader (very Saves the Day-ish) had problems of a different sort: They were missing half a band. The group soldiered on acoustically, and even delivered a solid cover of Alkaline Trio’s “Cooking Wine,” but overall the group’s earnest emo/pop-punk came off a little much on the wrong side of Dashboard Confessional for my taste – pained howls and acoustic guitars just don’t get me amped anymore.

Local up-and-comers the Holy Mess broke a guitar cable one song in. Luckily, the members of the Holy Mess are trained professionals, and they stalled for time with expert comic timing. Or, at least they tried. Just when the band seemed like they’d run out of stories (Sample quote: “Fuck man, I love to fuck”), the group finally got their instruments up and running and they plowed through a set of new old tunes recently collected on a compilation for Red Scare. Highlights included all three tunes from last year’s Benefit Sesh seven-inch. For a band that fucks around a lot, the Holy Mess sure is awfully tight live, ripping through brief bursts of gruff, RVIVR-esque punk before heading back to the bar.

By this point the Fire had filled up considerably to welcome Canada’s beloved ska-lovin’, punk-playin’ boys the Flatliners. The audience had been enthusiastic but physically reserved before the Flatliners came on. But once the group launched into opener “Here Comes Treble,” from last year’s stellar Cavalcade, people went off, and the pit alternated between moshing and skanking on a whim. Crowd surfing was constant, but outside of the occasional belly flop, the kids took care of each other.

While the Flatliners generally focused on Cavalcade (“Carry the Banner,” “Monumental”), they made their set up on the fly, soliciting fan suggestions throughout the night. Frontman Chris Cresswell wasn’t feeling too well (“I feel like Satan took a shit in my throat”), but he kept up the pace all the same. The songs kind of blurred together after a while, but the band still hit the highlights from Cavalcade and The Great Awake. The act wisely bowed out with “Eulogy,” arguably their catchiest tune, and the crowd certainly helped out with vocal duties. It was a fun show, although I encountered a technical difficulty of my own: Maoz on South Street closes early on weeknights now.

Face to Face / Strung Out at the Trocadero

The drunks were at the bar; the punks were in the pit. Between the two there was a clear divide in energy levels at the Face to Face/Strung Out show Sat., May 21 at Philadelphia’s Trocadero. Kids on the floor maintained a constantly swirling mass for both bands without tiring (and surprisingly few fights). The old heads up at the balcony drank their drinks and took some abuse from the bands. There wasn’t any real hostility, though, just a kinship formed over fast beats and snotty vocals.

After opening sets from the Darlings (SoCal pop-punk) and the regrettably named Cerebral Ballzy (thrash punk), Strung Out emerged to big applause and an even bigger mosh pit. While the band has tweaked its sound over the years, the tunes segued nicely into each other as guitarists Jake Kiley and Rob Ramos peeled off solo after solo. Frontman Jason Cruz frequently interacted with the crowd during and between songs, offering high fives and fist bumps while occasionally tweaking the adults at the bar. After a tight 45-minute set, the band bowed out to make room for the night’s main event, Face to Face.

While Face to Face has officially been reunited since 2008, 2011 feels like their true comeback. Their new, pretty good album Laugh Now… Laugh Later just dropped. More importantly, their promotional tour for the record boasts the best Face to Face set I have ever seen.

I’m not going to pretend to be an old vintage punker, but I did catch the band twice before their break-up, and while both performances were exemplary, tonight had a raw energy and enthusiasm that surpassed previous stops in Philly. Maybe it was the rambunctious crowd. Maybe it was the fact that the returning members look exactly the same (Well, Trever Keith and Scott Shiflett anyway. Drummer Danny Thompson is new and I don’t know who the second guitarist was, but he wasn’t Chad Yaro). Or maybe it was just a really, really well-picked setlist.

Tonight, the band played “the hits.” That means a lot of stuff off the first three records, plus “Bill of Goods” from How to Ruin Everything. Four tracks from Laugh Now were shown off (Set opener “Should Anything Go Wrong,” plus “It’s Not All About You,” “Bombs Away” and “All For Nothing”), and they sound much better in a faster, live setting. I’m one of the few who actually loves the group’s experimental Ignorance is Bliss record, but I didn’t mind seeing it passed over, along with Reactionary, in favor of tracks like “Won’t Lie Down,” “A-OK” and “Walk Away.”

The band kicked things off with new tune “Should Anything Go Wrong” and the crowd erupted. They didn’t quite know the words yet, but they sure kept time. Then Keith counted into Don’t Turn Away’s “You’ve Done Nothing,” and the audience sure knew the words to that one. The show seemed to deal out songs by period. A Face to Face suite yielded “Ordinary,” “Walk the Walk,” “Won’t Lie Down” and a particularly roaring version of “Blind,” for example. Big Choice, of course, got the biggest reaction, with songs like “Disconnected” and “Big Choice” setting off the crowd.

Keith took the time to chide the drunks, galvanizing them to a minimal amount of exercise by standing up for the entirety of “Bill of Goods.” But after an hour-long performance plus a two-song encore, Face to Face left the stage to applause from everyone in attendance. Fans were promised another show within a year, plus they scored Laugh Now for free if they bought anything at the merch table. All kidding aside, Keith and co. were good to Philadelphia.

The Mountain Goats and Final Fantasy at the Theater of Living Arts

John Darnielle of indie/folk masters the Mountain Goats seems to have a fondness for Philadelphia. He writes for metal mag Decibel, which is printed in Philly. Goats drummer Jon Wurster is from the area. He commands a fanatic cult, but isn’t afraid to play smaller venues like the North Star Bar or local college campuses. And when he does falter live, as any human is bound to eventually do, he makes up for it tenfold. So, obviously, the guy was gonna put on a great show for fans when he hit the TLA Sat., Nov. 28 with Final Fantasy. That’s pretty much a given. But the exact way he would do it – mixing crowd pleasers and deep cuts, playing some songs astonishingly softly for such a medium-sized venue while also going louder than he ever has before – could never be predicted.

See, the Goats have a lot of songs. Fansite Themountaingoats.net counts 525. The band has such a wealth of tunes that Darnielle is able to pull out obscure songs whenever he wants, much to superfans’ delight. That alone ensures that most Goats shows are unique. Throw in the band’s tendency to perform songs with their tourmates, as well the Goats’ recent swelling to a four-piece with the addition of guitarist Perry Wright (The Prayers & Tears of Arthur Digby Sellers; check out The Mother of Love Emulates the Shapes of Cynthia sometime), and the uniqueness of each performance is that much more assured. Nov. 28 was no exception.

The night began with Final Fantasy, a.k.a. violinist/vocalist Owen Pallett. Accompanied by a guitarist/percussionist, Pallett crafted polyphonic wonders using his violin, a keyboard, and enough loop pedals to fight whatever apocalyptic future awaits us. Calling his music orchestral pop doesn’t sound quite right since A) we’re talking about a one-man orchestra, B) Pallett’s tunes have a lot of dance and pop elements, and C) dude is too funny to be pigeonholed. The guy’s classical background shows – he’s clearly talented – but he didn’t come off as pompous while discussing his music at all. Ditto for when he called out some obnoxious, talkative non-listeners, wryly saying, “Were you guys talking this whole time? I didn’t notice because I was so into the music.” Overall, Pallett put on an entertaining show. I anticipate his upcoming 2010 record, Heartland.

By Pallett’s own admission, opening for the Mountain Goats is intimidating given his fervent fanbase (of which I consider myself a member). Pallett’s set wrapped up by 9:50 p.m., and by 10:10 I was losing my patience. I needed a Goats fix. When the houselights dimmed at 10:15, the crowd, and me, collectively lost its shit. The Goats hit the stage and tore into…

Wait, I don’t know this song. How do I not know this song? I just listened to 18 hours of TMG tunes. I should know this song. Think, think. This song is so awesome, with its boisterous arrangement. Wurster looks like he’s having such a great time. They’re singing about handball. How many Goats songs are about that?

That’s right, the Mountain Goats opened with “Hand Ball,” originally from the compilation Our Salvation is in Hand, later compiled on the rarities collection Protein Source of the Future...Now!. They did it with a full band too, which shows how much Wurster has integrated into Darnielle and bassist Peter Hughes’ dynamic. Darnielle has always had a knack for loud acoustic ditties – have you heard “Cubs in Five?” – but Wurster and Wright pushed that aspect harder on songs like “Palmcorder Yajna,” “This Year,” and “See America Right.” “Romans 10:9,” one of the poppier songs from new album Life of the World to Come, turned out surprisingly, wonderfully heavy. It was perhaps my favorite performance of the night. Of the five times I’ve seen the Mountain Goats, this was their most rocking set.

Of course, an ebb and flow can do plenty for a live show. The Goats added softer songs like “Deuteronomy 2:10” and Life outtake “Enoch 18:14,” after which Darnielle went solo for a bit, knocking out obscurities like a so-far-unreleased cover of the Chiffons’ “One Fine Day,” “From TG&Y,” and “Song for Dana Plato,” all of which went over well with the crowd. After that, Darnielle went even deeper with “Going to Michigan” by the Extra Glenns, a band he was in with Nothing Painted Blue frontman Franklin Bruno. Pallett came out to play the guitar part from “Going to Bristol” on his violin, and it was good. Damn good. There was a bit of respect and nerd love between the two performers, as Pallett would come back for performances of “Hebrews 11:40,” “This Year,” and “No Children.”

The rest of the band came out to wrap up the regular set, concluding with rabblerousers “See America Right” and “This Year.” “This Year” gets a little bit louder and faster every time I see it live, which, given that it’s one of the most beloved, best TMG songs, is always welcome.

After a two-song encore of “Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace,” which featured Hughes’ bass at its heaviest, and “No Children,” I felt ever so slightly disappointed. See, I interviewed Darnielle a little while ago via e-mail. He dodged a few of my questions, one of which was a show request for his cover of “Dirty Old Town,” as my girlfriend and I have a lot of memories attached to that song. Since Darnielle didn’t outright shoot me down, I wondered, nay hoped, that maybe he really would play the song. He didn’t. But then the band came out for a second encore and played a full band version of “The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton,” which is, scientifically speaking, the greatest Mountain Goats song of all time. Some people might say “Going to Georgia” (which I’ve heard live, suckaz) or “Going to Maine,” but those people are wrong, and perhaps even insane. The show opened to strains of Dio and closed with raised fists and shouts of “Hail Satan!” Decibel, and a lot of Philly’s Mountain Goats fans, would’ve been proud.

Set list

Hand Ball
Old College Try
Cotton
Palmcorder Yajna
Romans 10:9
Deuteronomy 2:10
Enoch 18:14
-----

One Fine Day (Chiffons cover, went solo)
From TG&Y
Song for Dana Plato
Going to Michigan (Extra Glenns cover)
Going to Bristol (with Owen Pallett)

-----
Hebrews 11:40 (back to full band with OP)
Psalms 40:2
Song for Dennis Brown
See America Right
This Year (with OP)
-----

Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace
No Children (with OP)
-----

The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton

The Psychedelic Furs at the Trocadero

Music fans will always debate whether band reunions are a good or bad idea. Sure, it’d be great to see a favorite group from yesteryear back on a stage, but what if that band tarnishes its reputation with a sloppy cash-in? Fans got compelling arguments in either direction with debatable sets from Madchester maestros Happy Mondays and new wave gloomers the Psychedelic Furs at Philadelphia’s the Trocadero Wed., Oct. 7. But before either revitalized ’80s act could play, relative Canadian newcomers Islands had to face the unfortunate task of opening.

Pity Islands; their set of retro dance-pop wasn’t too bad, and certainly demanded more attention that it garnered. Five devoted Islands fans remained at the front of the stage, while everyone else in the Troc hit up the venue’s upper and lower bars, although applause was polite throughout. Still, frontman Nicholas Diamonds put on a brave face and tried to give a good show to his fans, dancing with each one individually (Well, the females anyway). Once the band exited, a wave of Happy Mondays fans flooded the floor.

While the crowd seemed pleased by HM’s hour-long set, I had to wonder why. Maybe it’s because they were drunk and I wasn’t, but there was something a little sad about watching bloated, incomprehensible frontman Shaun Ryder mumble and stumble his way through obnoxious, sloppy dance jams while middle aged guys with dreads bobbed and swayed. And they didn’t even play “24 Hour Party People!” Still, the piano line of set-ender “Step On” is an infectious bit to behold, even though Ryder kept forgetting the song’s best part (It’s when he shouts “You’re twistin’ my melon man!” for no particular reason, by the way).

It’s harder to judge the Psychedelic Furs. Personal bias aside (I was there for them. Have you heard Talk Talk Talk, ya’ll?), the group gave me plenty of reasons to both enjoy and question their reunion. At 53, frontman Richard Butler is still a great dancer, and he seemed genuinely happy to be performing in Philadelphia. He spends so much time scowling on his album covers, that it’s surprising his smile could be so warm. Though the set started off a little out of key with “Love My Way,” the band soon settled into a groove, performing mostly selections from their pop years. Sometimes it paid off (“Forever Now,” “No Easy Street,” and “President Gas,” from Forever Now, sounded awesome) and sometimes it didn’t (pretty much anything post-Mirror Moves).

The two songs that got the biggest reactions were, of course, hits “Pretty in Pink” and “Heaven,” with the crowd’s voices on the latter nearly drowning out the band. A personal highlight was hearing saxophonist Mars Williams hit an otherworldly solo during “Sister Europe,” from the Furs’ self-titled debut, although I was heavily disappointed not to hear “Mr. Jones” or “Into You Like a Train” from Talk Talk Talk. What I got instead were competently played, homogenous fare, which revealed why the Furs broke up in the first place – they eventually ran out of ways to write songs about pretty girls in bad situations. Still, it was neat hearing songs like “The Ghost in You,” “She is Mine,” and “Heartbeat” live.

I left the Trocadero feeling vaguely pleased by the Psychedelic Furs. I mean, it’s always exciting to see a band you never thought you’d get a chance to see. But there was this lingering disappointment over how much the songs blurred together after a while, over the audio mix, over how many times people bumped into me on the way to and from the bar, and over the feeling that I had to sit through two lackluster opening acts to even get that far. I suppose I wasn’t the intended audience – I’ve only been a fan for a couple of years; the rest of the crowd probably a couple of decades. In the end, I can say I heard “Pretty in Pink” live, and I guess that’s cool enough. Reunion justified.

The Kills at the Theater of Living Arts

The subtle art of droning was in full bloom at the Theater of Living Arts, courtesy of The Kills, The Horrors and Magic Wand. While the TLA has never exactly had the best sound, that weakness turned to be a plus, enhancing the swirling fits of garage rock noise emanating from the bands. The bands drew an interesting mix, with The Kills pulling in hipsters a-plenty – Big shiny garish clothes! Pseudo-ironic mustaches! Sweatbands? – and The Horrors attracting more of a punk/metal crowd. How else can you explain the kids in Misfits and System of a Down tees? And while I missed Magic Wand’s set (I had vegan BBQ chicken pizza to eat, clam flammit), I still gotta say, overall, this was a tasty show.

The Horrors put on a damn fine show. Bedecked in black and synths, the band tore away at their instruments while frontman Faris Badwan mostly kept his back to the audience. There’s a definite shoegaze element to the band’s new Primary Colours that elevates their previous garage band sound, and they’re all the better for it.

Though there was a mini-exodus following The Horrors’ set, a decent amount of people stuck around for The Kills’ 11 p.m. set. Though they ended up playing for only 50 minutes (plus a three song encore), it’s worth giving the band some slack over the short set, if only because lead singer Allison Mosshart was hospitalized like a week ago for breathing problems and still found the energy to give Philadelphia folks a whirlwind of a show. Mosshart constantly paced the stage, hungry and anxious, while guitarist/vocalist Jamie Hince tore at his instrument and called on the crowd to dance.

The set leaned heavily on material from last year’s career highlight Midnight Boom, and songs like “U.R.A. Fever,” “Alphabet Pony” and “Black Balloon” got a huge reaction. Mosshart was noticeably rougher live, again probably thanks to her cold, but the newfound grit gave the songs a dirtier new perspective. Her vocals became more bluesy, which in turn played well off of Hince’s guitar work. The band was also droned more live. Midnight Boom was packed with dance beats; its live interpretation bears more in common with The Jesus & Mary Chain than PJ Harvey. Again, though, this generally worked to the band’s advantage.

Still, the murkier, hazier live sound didn’t suit The Kills’ older songs quite as well. Granted, “Fried My Little Brains” and “Pull a U” sounded good, but “No Wow” felt flat. The song started off slowly building itself into a fervor, just like its studio counterpart, but it led to a climax that never came.

Not that it mattered. Bluesy, hypnotic, salty, sweaty, sexy, writhing, alive. These are the words to use for describing a Kills show. The band clearly gave its all for the crowd and was rewarded with wave after wave of applause.