Spoon - Seattle, WA

Britt Daniel's haircut was the first signal that the audience at Saturday's show was in for some rock action. Shorn like a grunt and brandishing a Guild hollow body, Daniel led Spoon with military precision through the band's catalogue. Of course, the set was front-loaded with songs from the band's brilliant new album, Gimme Fiction.

"The Beast and Dragon, Adored" was the elegiac set opener, acting as an overture for the show. Daniel didn't speak to the audience immediately, but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying himself. Band members frequently exchanged encouraging, conspiratorial glances, egging each other on. The set was a sheer delight, seamlessly blending new material with songs from Kill the Moonlight and Girls Can Tell.

Any worries I had previously had about certain songs translating well to a live milieu were quickly dismissed when the band broke into "I Turn My Camera On," the first single from Gimme Fiction. A slinky, minimalist masterpiece, the song (after a few tuning adjustments) hit a groove almost immediately and had the normally staid Seattle crowd shaking its collective moneymaker. Along with the enigmatic "The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine" and the new album's most straightforward song, "Sister Jack," it put the whole crowd in a great mood, handclaps and all. Despite the polish and care put into the songs, there was still a rawness that translated quite well to the stage. "Paper Tiger" was a perfect example, displaying a few rough edges in addition to the layers of effects. Bonus - Daniel made a joke at his expense during the song's first verse, singing the often misheard lyric "I will no longer do the devil's dishes" instead of "devil's wishes". Any reserve Spoon may have displayed went out the window then, leaving in its place a band having a good time and feeding off the crowd's energy.

Complicated handclaps ensued with "Back to the Life." "Jonathan Fisk," a song that perfectly embodies the youthful defiance that lies at the heart of Spoon's work, ended the night, and the fact that the frat boy standing next to me could be the real-life Fisk didn't bother me in the least. He had a big grin on his face; like me, he was transported by the music. "When you believe, they call it rock and roll," Daniel sang at the beginning of the set, and he couldn't have been more right.