“This guy sounds like Soundgarden Shreds,” my +1 said, referring to the popular, mocking YouTube phenomenon, as a lanky white guy (aka Water Beds) drummed and triggered downtuned guitar from his iPod (I think) through a stack of Soldano amps. To me, he sounded like GodHeadsilo, with his rumbling drums and gut-punch dirges, with a little truculent Killdozer churn and burn thrown into the equation. Whatever the case, dude’s a one-man post-grunge expulsion.

Seattle guitar/bass/drums trio Bronze Fawn seemed to be fixated on that revered post-rock axis of Mogwai, MONO, and Explosions in the Sky—which would be great if this were 1997; but it’s 2009, and Bronze Fawn haven’t really added any new wrinkles to this style of rock, in which surprising dynamics and exceptional instrumental prowess are crucial for avoiding torpor. Unfortunately, Bronze Fawn’s Sturm und Drang instrumentals, for all their pendulum swings from majesty to contemplation, were more ponderous than thunderous. Their buildups and breakdowns just weren’t extreme or interesting enough to challenge their post-rockin’ heroes—who, honestly, can be pretty dull themselves at times. The crowd stood stock still in cross-armed solemnity and appreciation as Bronze Fawn ground on with heads-down earnestness. It was boringly beautiful and beautifully boring.

(An aside about the crowd: It was the most stoic—and dude-intensive—I’ve seen in a while [since Sunn O))), maybe?]. Hardly any energy radiated from it, which posited a chicken/egg question: Were people lethargic because of the music emanating from the stage, or was the musical excitement flattened due to a dearth of audience chi? Or was it a combo of both? I dunno, but something’s awry when my note-taking and moderate headnodding are the most demonstrative actions at a gig. Yeah, it was a Tuesday night, but still...)

Polvo started late, due to issues with the sound (Croc sonic guru Jim Anderson was conspicuous by his absence). The North Carolinians worrisomely tinkered with the amps and instruments; Ash Bowie and Dave Brylawski looked frustrated, even disgusted while testing/tuning their guitars—not an auspicious omen.

They began with the obscure “Colonial Arms” (off the 1994 comp Why Do You Think They Call It Pop?) and then flowed into the 1991 single “Vibracobra,” giving early-adopting diehard fans some serious pleasure with their thorny convolutions and corkscrew riffs. The heavy, circuitous opener from In Prism, “Right the Relation,” followed. And then they did my favorite Polvo tune, “Solitary Set,” whose Far Eastern guitar twang fueled a melody that unfolds like an ever-blossoming flower; utterly gorgeous. But they appeared to cut the song short in exasperation. Bummer! (Another bummer was the lack of “In This Life,” although “Feather of Forgiveness”—with a dulcet Brylawski glass-fingered guitar solo—nearly compensated for that. But Exploded Drawing largely went ignored, as did Shapes, with only “Enemy Insects” representing it.)

Polvo aired the new album’s “Pedlar,” “City Birds,” and “Beggar’s Bowl” (the last of which built to a magisterial climax worthy of Led Zeppelin) and though they sounded fine, they seemed to be less mercurial than their recorded versions—a phenomenon that afflicted many songs during their 2008 Neumos gig.

For the two-song encore, Polvo finally shed their sullenness (Brylawski and bassist Steve Popson actually smiled), as they ripped into “Fractured (Like Chandeliers).” It was an epic, defiant march of a song, a triumphant, serrated anthem that found the group at their most animated (it must be said that drummer Brian Quast was on fire all night and funkier than I remember him being). They played another storming math rocker whose identity eludes me, but "Dark Age" was the real exclamation point on the night. The crowd went wild—very stoically.