Sonic Youth’s founding clairvoyant circuitry scientist, Thurston Moore, played at Neumo’s last night.

He wasn’t with Sonic Youth, though. He’s with a stripped-down band (“We don’t have a name,” Thurston said bashfully as the set began) featuring acoustic guitars, bass, violin and drums (Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley).

The songs he’s gigging out, from his new solo album, sparkle with his signature pop star melodies and Trans Am guitar lines, but on back-to-the-land acoustic, the heavy Leadbelly roots are loud and clear.

And there’s a second guitarist with the expert Mr. Moore—Keith Richards-circa-Exile- style Chris Brokaw—who trades off with Thurston, picking blues figures while Thurston is bashing out Sonic rock on the low-E, and bashing out Sonic rock while Thurston is playing the blues. They had a call and response guitar rapport that clicked like clockwork and seemed psionic all at once. Psionic Youth.

The bass player broke a string early in the set (yes, a bass string!) and during the lull, Thurston was charming (talking about “a hippie to punk era record store” he loved and giving away an organic cantaloupe he happened to have on hand.)

I was hoping, however, he would have used the downtime to reenact the last cut on his new album—a recording of Thurston when he was 13 circa 1972 narrating a Terry Riley? Steve Reich?-inspired art track: “The sound you are about to hear is me spraying a Lysol can around the room. There.”

Great show. And it was packed. Could have done without the macho hecklers who seemed to think Thurston’s legacy of noise rock means he’s a macho asshole like them. Nope. Thurston’s a gentle soul. Last night’s wonderfully reckless acoustic raveup proved it once and for all.