A few songs under his belt, and gaining confidence from all the adulation, Berman loosened up a touch and even made it away from the lyric sheet. Three or four downtempo numbers which may have tranformed the Webster Hall into the world's most sarcastic Barnes and Nobles' poetry reading were saved by Berman's jitters expulsion. "Black and Brown Shoes" especially benefitted from a more relaxed reading from the Actual Air author.

At this point, Berman welcomed tour manager, occasional Silver Jew, and ex-Pavement utility man Bob "Nasty" Nastanovich to the drum kit. Looking perennially like a drunk twelve year old, the Nast soaked up the crowd's warm feelings and channeled them into the steady beats of old favorite, "Trains Across the Sea." He stuck around for a lively rendition of Tanglewood Numbers' catchy standout, "How Can I Love You If You Won't Lie Down?" Then, it was another round of applause and Bob went backstage to manage the mini-bar, presumably.

Taking a second of stage banter to deflate the surge of good will that Nastanovich begat, Berman informed us that he'd been demystifying the title of the next track all along the Eastern Seaboard. As if liberated by the admission that "Buckingham Rabbit" was a menu item, the band launched into a superbly fleshed out surf rock version of said song, culminating in a guitar solo epiphany that was much bigger than the revered album version.

Soon, Berman took the mike to acknowledge that a few in the audience were probably dragged here. Judging from the deep register of the shouted lyrics, they were probably good natured girlfriends. Fittingly, Berman's good natured wife stepped to the mike for a song dedicated to the non-converted. With a clear voice and a smoking Grand Ole' Opry brown dress, Cassie Berman captivated the intoxicated with a pretty, countrified version of "the Poor, the Fair, and the Good." Dave sweetly let his affection for his lady be known, borderline nuzzling behind her as she finished. Not one to front with "will they or won't they" encore theatrics, DB announced that they'd be off for a quick smoke break, and then return to geek out the die-hards once more.

The "smoke break" was indeed short, as Mrs. Berman and the boys quickly filed back on to cook through a couple of Tanglewood numbers. Both "Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed" and "Punks in the Beerlight" were comparable in energy and delivery to their recorded counterparts. The latter was raised to fist pumping anthem level, because after a concert long dose of trying to keep up with Berman's brainy word collages, "I Always Loved You to the Max!" is a pretty killer line to shout repeatedly.

Again, they leave the stage, again the crowd goes apeshit.

In a display of wishful thinking, the Webster management turned on the stereo and the houselights, feigning the end of a show that those in attendance had no intention of abandoning. Nobody, and I mean nobody, budged an inch. So, with mass stubborness assuring another encore and house lights filling the V.I.P. balcony, everyone indulged their indie fantasies with a round of "Waiting for Malkmus." Steve was pretty easy to pick out, despite a huddled crouch.

Some smug A & R type smoking a cigarette outside the entry line had already planted this seed of expectation in my head with a too loud not to be overheard comment, and I admit to being among those who was dying to hear the Malk-man destroy some American Water tracks on vocal and guitar. Which, understandable though it might be, does a bit of an injustice to the lead guitar of Peyton Pinkerton who had been ably handling Malkmus' skewed guitar parts all night. It should be noted however, that the attempted chant of "Steve!, Steve!, Steve!" dissolved fast, while the chant of "Jews! Jews! Jews!" had legs.

Coming back to the fray, Berman joked "Couldn't you guys come back tomorrow night? I'm lazy, it took me fifteen years to play in the first place." Of course, that was not an option. Those still jones-ing for a more Pavement'ed out Jews line-up ultimately were sated by the shout stylings of Nastanovich providing "Conduit for Sale!" style support to the stunning "There is a Place" ("I Saaaw God's SHADOW ON THIS WORLD!). And that was that.

As the Jews filed triumphantly for the exit, the obsessive fan love took a weird and embarrassing turn when some numbnut jumped the stage, took Berman's hat from his lecturn, put it on, and jumped back into the crowd. Cassie was forced to stand by her man and scold the herb into a delayed return, but it foiled the grace of their finish. Which prompts the obvious question: Why, even on a night so filled with good feeling such as this, can't hipsters, get along with other hipsters?

Soi dissantra. Soi dissantra...

Tags: Silver Jews, Pavement, Webster Hall