Unlike a considerable portion of last night’s Croc crowd, I’m not from Denton, and I’ve only recently discovered Midlake. Which made the fact that I missed the first half-hour of their set even more frustrating (9:30 start time? What?)

What I caught was good. Sam was right in his post that their music—which I know from last year’s terrific The Trials of Van Occupanther—sounds chilly and smooth on record but far rougher and warmer on stage. The Fleetwood Mac-ishness came through in elegant harmonnies; samples and drum loops updated the vibe.

Midlake is a rock band that does not rock. Even with five guys onstage, playing three keyboards and bass and drums between them, they exuded on oddly appealing restraint. They achieved a richness of sound not through volume or force but by adding humming layer to humming layer of keys and voices, occassionally breaking the melody with a guitar solo or repeated chorus. Their songs are complex, complexity isn’t achieved through impenetrability but by interesting, unpredictable changes.

I really just wanted to listen to the band, more so than watch—a strange reaction for me. The set would’ve improved by seating—a format I normally scoff at, but would’ve allowed more attention paid to the music. That”s not a bad thing. Put these guys in the Triple Door, or just put some chairs up in the Croc.

The band inspires devotion from its fans; someone I talked to had seen them the night before in Portland. The room was more than familiar with many of the songs played, even older tunes from 10 years ago. I had no idea Midlake has been around that long. Now that I know, I’ll definitely take a deeper look.