I hadn’t seen SY since their performance at Lollapalooza in 1995, so in Friday’s show was sort of a rediscovery for me. I had forgotten what an absolute joy it is to watch Thurston have a full-tilt freak-out, thrashing about so much that he appeared to be wielding an epileptic anaconda, not a guitar. Kim looked and sounded stunning, alternating her time between gleefully stomping on one of her nine (!) effects pedals and pogoing about as the band worked their way through the majority of Rather Ripped—and very little of their back catalog (I missed their first song, so perhaps they busted out “Eric’s Trip,” as they have on many other dates, but I can’t say for sure). I think it says a lot when a band with as much history as SY can stick to newer material and still hold an audience’s attention for nearly two hours. Granted, there were more than a few shouted demands for “Death Valley ‘69” but their overall adherence to the new stuff didn’t detract from the fact that they remain one of the most creatively resilient bands of the last 20 years.

From the moment I walked up to this sold-out show, it was clear that Ms. Case has officially arrived. Scalpers were everywhere (scalped tickets for Case’s shows have been going for as much $60 throughout this tour), and I ended up standing behind one woman at the box office who was practically in tears when the attendant told her there were “definitely, definitely” no more tickets. Once she took the stage, it was also clear that Case, a former Seattle/Tacoma resident, was overwhelmed by the avalanche of adoration that was hitting her. Normally a talkative and jovial performer, Case was visibly nervous during the first several songs (tottering around on precariously high heels probably didn’t help), but still hit every damn note with her trademark precision. Her band handled back-up duties admirably, particularly pedal steel/banjo player Jon Rauhouse, but thanks to a preponderance of a cappella breaks, her voice remained the centerpiece of the 90-minute set. Case eventually relaxed, gently teasing Rauhouse, falling into the familiar stand-up routine she conducts with backing vocalist Kelly Hogan, and gracefully weaving her way through material from her four albums (and a few covers, including songs by Randy Newman, Buffy Sainte-Marie, and Bob Dylan). I haven’t been moved to tears at a live show in quite some time, but by the time I was on my feet with the rest of the crowd for her third standing ovation, it really couldn’t be helped.