*Reproduction of Johnston’s art.

At the center of a dance club and under the reflective light of a giant disco ball, Austin’s Daniel Johnston took the stage with a simple smile and songs that he originally wrote and recorded in his room.

Johnston is a strange sort of indie rock hero. Some have heard of him, some have heard more of his story (thanks to the 2005 documentary “The Devil and Daniel Johnston“).

The truth is, there is something special about Johnston and during the show, I wondered what he thought about his fame, how songs he recorded onto tapes have found their way into a trendy nightclub in Boston with a varied audience that included hipsters, clubbers and senior citizens.

Immediately, you’re struck with Johnston’s innocent persona and how effortlessly he goes from one song to the next with his eyes closed, his hands shaking around the mic and his voice reaching the same child-like wonder you’ve heard so often on his albums or downloaded MP3s

“Who here likes Christmas?” he asked at one point. “Well, ya know. Every day is like Christmas for me because I buy a stack of comic books. Because I’m RICH!”

Only Johnston can do that and garner laughs from the men and “aawwws” from the women simultaneously.

(This was a different show for me personally. We’re trying to start a podcast for 52 shows, so I was busy doing some interviews with the crowd and capturing as much music as possible. I’ll hopefully have this up by the weekend).

The show was split up into two parts (three if you count the encore). The first featured just Johnston and his guitar. The second brought out a backing band (the night’s dreadful opening act).

But as interesting as it was to hear “Walking the Cow” and “Grievances” live, it was just as interesting to see the crowd and watch their reaction.

There were guys in the corner muttering “What the fuck?” and “classy” women who were bored because they were brought on a date (who does that?).

And, like me, there were people who came by themselves, there to see the man they had heard about for so many years, either from friends or thanks to a t-shirt Kurt Cobain wore almost every day.

It’s a strange show to explain and maybe the podcast will bode better. For now, know that at its most simple, it was a show with an honest guy on stage. At its most artistic, it was a show that displayed what musical freedom truly looks like.

*That’s right…Tegan & Sara covered Rihanna.

Half-way through the third song of Tegan & Sara’s set I realized something: I like this band. I mean, I really like this band. And it’s not just because their cover of Rihanna’s “Umbrella” was inspiring. In all honesty, their show was the closest thing to perfection I have ever seen and, keep in mind, I entered the show feeling neutral towards Tegan & Sara.

I’ve listened to the new album, “The Con”, was aware of their existence and have always been a big fan of the words “twins” and “lesbian” in the same sentence, but my feeling towards them was comparable to Rolling Stone Magazine’s three-star album review (They use five stars and I feel giving something three stars is completely useless in terms of telling me what the album is like)

But there I was, enraptured by the Canadian lesbian twins, grooving to their songs and laughing at their on-stage banter.

A couple weeks back, Dave posted a Reader Request about bands and their onstage personalities. With Tegan & Sara, you got the impression that there was no stage personality, that they were like this for real. And they were hilarious.

“We love it when the front row is into it,” said Tegan. “I mean, there are two types of front rows. There’s the one that’s totally into it, yelling Tegan! Tegan! TEGAN! TEGAN! and I’m still talking and…”

“It’s like when we were kids…do you remember when we were kids?” interjected Sara. “When mom would call us down saying ‘Teeeeegan’ Teeeegan’ and when we had to clean out the litter box it would be louder…you remember, right?”

Here’s where Sara went on the first of her many digressions, forcing Tegan to stare at her, almost mentally saying “Shut. Up.”

Sara eventually got to the point (kinda, but not really) and Tegan went on with hers.

“So…yea, thanks for that Sara. This is already going on longer than I wanted. I just wanted to tell the story and introduce the song. Anyway, so there’s the litter box front row…”

“Did we just call them shit?” asked Sara.

“And there’s the other front row,” ignored Tegan. “The one where people are leaned back, arms crossed and looking like this. It’s as if they were just let out on parole and, as a stipulation, they had to see a Tegan & Sara show.”

Laughter erupts. I smile. Then I uncross my arms and throw them in my pockets, hoping no one saw.

This is how it went during the start of the concert, indirecting introducing a song and then playing it. But eventually, the duo just launched into indie-rock robot and busted through four songs, as if time was a factor for them (and, it being the Berklee Performance Center, it probably was).

Sara still allowed her personality to shine through. During one song, Tegan started it with a steady beat from the…um, it’s that thing that looks like an egg and it sounds like there’s rice inside of it. You know what I’m talking about (OK, I’m starting to sound like Sara). Anyway, Sara bobbed her head during the intro causing Tegan to spit out “You’re making a mockery of our band.”

But it’s more than just good interaction with the audience or the fact that their performance was engaging (notice I didn’t say flawless). They were honest and in a world of computer-generated music and digitally synthesized vocals, that goes a long way.,

Take “So Jealous,” a fan favorite and a song that the duo just couldn’t get started right. It got so bad, they just stopped and eventually Sara said “Let’s just go to the part where I change.” And they did. Sure, the song didn’t sound like it does on the album, but people don’t go to concerts to hear the album played back to them (something some bands/artists still haven’t grasped). They go for the experience, to see their favorite singers and gain a glimpse into the personalities behind the music they love.

Tegan and Sara did this and their show is something that should be witnessed by music fans everywhere…especially if you like a little bit of musical joy in your life and appreciate interesting covers like the one featured above.

Other videos from the show

“So Jealous” (with the mess-up)

“Where Does the Good Go“

*The greatest encore chant for a band ever?

The exuberant circus rock of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah inspired dancing from bearded men, one hipster to crowd surf, and an encore chant that produced smiles from the band (though I have to think a lot of fans have clapped their hands and yelled yeah to get them back out).

This was a great show, despite the warnings I received from one “Uncle John.”

“Man, the last time I saw them, they didn’t look like they cared about being on stage…but that was a couple of years ago so I’m sure they’re fine now.”

True, they do produce a strange sort of awkwardness on stage, mostly from lead singer Alec Ounsworth, who resembled a pint-sized Borat saying “thank you” to the crowd in a seemingly weird accent.

Then again, something like that is expected from this band with long moniker and fuzzy indie-pop songs about, well, being weird. For them to come out and play it somewhat straight would be an incredible letdown.

And these are loyal, dedicated and insane fans. The sold-out crowd packed into the balmy Downstairs room of the Middle East and spent most of the time singing and dancing. And not the shifting the weight side-to-side dancing. This was full on, the-music-has-control-over-my-body, eyes closed and head aimed to the heavens dancing.

This is rock at its most primal and pure. And you get the impression that the band still isn’t sure why people like them.

The tour is in support of Some Loud Thunder, which was released earlier this year (I think in January) and has been an indie favorite ever since.

I bought the album purely on the strength of “Underwater (You and Me)” (which they closed with. Video below) and with all the praise I read about them in places like My Old Kentucky Blog and Audiovant (though that last one hasn’t been active in a while. C’mon man, bring it back).

Just like the album, the show was a pleasant surprise. It was as if all the indie-music pretension in the world was barred from entering the room, allowing people to be enraptured by the crazy sounds and antics of the band.

Though, now that I think of it, there was a moment when Uncle John’s comment somewhat rang true. Ounsworth tried to thank the opening bands and not really caring that he was saying their names wrong. It was funny, but also reveals that maybe Ounsworth and company are still surprised they even have a fanbase.

If you’re interested in witnessing the madness yourself, get your tickets quick. Most shows have already sold out.

Videos from the show

“Underwater (You and Me)”

“Under the Tidal Wave of Young Blood”

“Yankee Go Home”

“Some Loud Thunder”

I went into The Black Angels show Thursday night with pretty much every reason to hate it. Already, I had used a non-affiliate ATM machine to get cash (I loathe those charges) and had left an out-of-town friend at a bar to cover this event. That was Strike One.

Strike Two came when I waited in line and the venue, The Middle East in Cambridge, informed me my name wasn’t on the show list. Second time it’s happened in one week writing for this site. Now when people ask me at shows who I’m writing for, I say The Boston Globe.

Bitterness aside, luckily, I chatted up the guy in front of me in line, who was on the list plus one and who let me be his plus-one. A humble gesture. I thanked him and walked in ashamed and disgusted.

Over the next hour, I was subjected to a powerful concert experience. Watching The Black Angels live is like slowly descending into an LSD trip. The electronica psychedelic rock group covered most of their discography during the 60-minute set (The Angels only have one album out as of now), but they introduced new songs (Titles? Hell if I know.) likely set for their next release.

The Black Angels sounded like a modern-day Verve/Velvet Underground (the band’s name derives from a Velvet song). In concert, they’re like A Storm in Heaven cranked up 100 decibels. Lead singer Alex Maas looked like a homeless Vietnam veteran on stage, bushy beard and hair obscuring his face. Many Angels songs, too, deal with the current war and dying soldiers.

Live, even more so on disc, the Austin-based band borrows elements from psychedelic music of the late 70s, and Maas complemented his band like a drowned out Richard Ashcroft crooning over a drone machine.

The Angels achieve a unique overpowering sound, and the band’s stated goal is to flip current rock music on its ass. I didn’t take a ton of notes during the concert. I just slipped into the hypnotic sound The Black Angels produce. And considering they were dealing with someone cold sober and angry, it wasn’t an altogether bad trip.

About half way through the second song, I figured out something was wrong…I was sober. Like 12-step sober and to top that off, I was restricted to my assigned seat at the Berklee Performance Center and was also told that I couldn’t run up and down the aisle.

It’s not that I need to do the crab-walk on the floor, but the fact that it wasn’t an option completely soured my mood.

This was the scene at the Berklee Performance Center, which has a fantastic-looking stage and crystal clear acoustics, but also subjects its patrons to rules and regulations, which are enforced by an army of ushers that walk up and down the aisle, telling people to return to their seats, to put their cameras away and to essentially put a cap on the unbridled fun concerts are known for.

Not to mention I had to endure New Buffalo, who was the opening act. She’s an Aussie that’s been hailed for creating a “new and unique sound.” She does have a unique sound, especially when she breaks out her pre-recorded backup vocals and sings a pop-infused song about how hard it is to breakup with a friend. I was immediately irritated and wanted to scream in the aisle. I was promptly told to do what I want, but in my designated area.

(Then again maybe she had a cold or something. She’s sounds decent on her Myspace).

New Buffalo (I’m just as perplexed as you are about the name) is just one person and she was on stage with a keyboard, a guitar, and a simple green dress that made her look younger than she actually was (or maybe she is 13 and has been writing songs in her room for years).

When Stars finally came on, the six-member band stormed the stage and attacked the audience with melodramatic pop songs while throwing fake flowers into the crowd. I smiled. I was amused and thrilled that they opened with “Take me to the Riot,” one of my favorite songs on the new album “In the Bedroom after the War.” Then I brought my hand up to drink my non-existent beer. Right. Sober.

I’m being harsh. The show was great and the band played a great deal from the back catalog, which I didn’t know as well (though now I’m on Rhapsody.com looking for a couple of songs that I really dug).

A lot of their songs deal with melodrama of life. Want to hear a song about the anguish of love? Check. Or how about one about fucking someone to death? There you go (which is the one I’m trying to find). The thing is, after a while, the melodrama gets a little hard to take, even with front people Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan singing with such believable sincerity, coupled with a couple of epic hand gestures and stares into the ceiling.

In fact, seeing Campbell howl “WAAAAAAARRRRRR!” towards the end of the set was completely satisfying. Somewhere in his red-strained face and vein-popping neck, I felt there was a political message. Especially after the fourth howl. That totally meant he was serious.

At this point, I’m coming around and started to feel better. Even the guy in front of me dancing like he literally has ants in his pants or the girl moving her hips back and forth to make it look like she was humping the air couldn’t bring me down.

When I got outside, I was greeted with rain and intense hunger that eventually subsided thanks to some beer and frozen pizza. Once I got into bed, I almost wanted to turn my computer on and log on to New Buffalo’s Myspace to give that Aussie another chance…almost.

The fall season is upon us, which means it’s that time of year for sweatshirts, hot apple cider, and going to the local fair where forgotten bands make their mark once more.

At a recent visit to the Topsfield Fair, my girl and I were graced with the majestic presence of .38 Special while we perused the barn with the awarding-winning vegetables and the display case with the giant pumpkin (it’s over 1,689 pounds!). As I peered at the obscenely obese pumpkin, I heard .38 Special go into “Second Chance,” which made us feel like we were in an 80’s movie (BTW: that last link brings you to the video and it’s totally worth your time, provided you enjoy six guys playing a weepy ballad and making strange poses into the camera).

And suddenly, at that moment, I understood why these bands play these fairs. It’s the only kind of music that makes sense in an atmosphere of carnies, rickety rides, and the smell of fried food penetrating the air. Or maybe having fried dough makes me nostalgic for song lyrics like “I never loved her/ I never needed her/ She was willing and that’s all there is to say/ Don’t forsake me/ Please don’t leave me noooooww”.

That’s southern poetry right there.

They also played “Hold on Loosely” and “Caught Up in You.” Apparently, they played something from their 2004 release “Drivetrain.” I don’t know which song, but I’m sure it sounded like a mixture of “Hold” and “Caught” (all .38 special songs sound the same, which is part of their charm.)

Either way, thank you .38 Special. If you didn’t get paid, I hope you at least got a couple free rides on the Zipper. Just remember to hold on…loosely.

I believe in rock and roll again.

For a long time, I assumed it was dead, that the music industry had finally choked it to death, leaving only bands like Nickeback and Hinder as a cruel form of punishment like an obese stripper who has convinced you to pay for a lap dance.

Minutes before the Kings of Leon took the stage, the smell of cannabis floated through the air, as if it were introducing and welcoming the band at the same time.

But the buzz from the cannabis and $9 Harpoons (seriously, $9? WTF??) was soon replaced by the Kings’ brand of seductive and penetrating rock that inspires women to lose their morals, convinces men to buy $40 t-shirts, and incites random violence in Bank of America ATM vestibules after the show.

If your surprised to hear this much praise, it probably means you haven’t heard the Kings latest album “Because of the Times,” a stark departure from their other work. How do I know? Because I was once like you, passing on the Kings, thinking they weren’t anything special. Now I know better.

What other band can write a song about seeing a girl in a Camero and eye-fucking her at the intersection as you rev up your bike? (”Camero”) Or a song about waking up on the ground with your faced busted in, seeing a girl glance at you and be convinced that, from that small interaction, that she suddenly wants you? (”Arizona”)

Yes, they sound like silly premises for songs, but when played with the right combination of guitars, bass, drums and deliberate bravado, you have a dangerous mixture of awesomeness that can’t be contained, controlled or properly described.

In an effort to dispense with the inane babble, I’ve incorporated videos from the concert so you’ll somewhat understand what I’m talking about. Watch them and just pretend that there’s skinny, stripper-esque women around you dancing to get the full effect. Also, check out out Flickr photo group where I posted pics from the show.

Kings of Leon “Fans”

Kings of Leon “On Call”

Kings of Leon “Knocked Up”

Here’s a quick vid that a co-worker show from the Rilo Kiley concert over the weekend. It’s the end of the song “Breakn’ Up” off their new album “Under the Blacklight.” According to him, she’s pounding on a cowbell on stage which, as any fan of Christopher Walken will tell you, songs can never have too much cowbell. If anything, they need more.

On an intimate stage in a small bar close to Boston University, Patrick Park (a native of Colorado) stepped up with his acoustic guitar and looked out to the crowd.

“Hey everybody. I’m Patrick Park. Hehe, yea.”

At first glance, you don’t expect much from this guy with his frat-boy looks and face that resembles baseball player (and former local hero) Johnny Damon. But thanks to a morbid obsession with the now-defunct TV show “The OC,” I knew of Park and his acoustic-guitar sounding ways (which in turn has helped me convince women who are way out of my league that I was “sensitive” and “introspective”).

Why did I watch the OC? The season reason I watch 90210 reruns: it’s ridiculous.

And if not for The OC picking up two of Park’s songs (”Something Pretty” and “Life is a Song”), he would probably still be on that street corner singing to a group of homeless hippies and one sick dog.

Instead he’s here, playing dark lounges that make picture/video taking impossible. Here he is performing “Something Pretty.”

You have to be in the mood for Park. He’s perfect for coffee houses, rainy days and getting laid-back indie-rock chics who wear red glasses in bed (too specific?).

Here’s the strange thing about Park: he attracts the different sects of society, turning his concerts into impromptu UN-esque meetings. There was the father and his teenage son, the couple 20-something couples scattered in the middle, the hipster-punks in the back (not as angry as regular punks, not as wimpy as regular hipsters), older people who look like professors, and former OC fans who hide their dirty, shameful secret from the world (we can smell our own).

They were all fans. The applause was always strong and you got the sense that everyone knew the songs, which is especially appropriate since Park’s newest release is called Everyone’s in Everyone and seems to enjoy the theme that, well, we’re all connected by something (pain, confusion, love for acoustic-guitar-based songs).

Some will say his songs sound the same (he does add a harmonica on some) while others will say it’s a tragedy he isn’t more popular and played on the radio.

The truth, as it usually does, lies in the middle. Park is a great add to your music collection, provided you enjoy the quieter moments in life or cheesy teen dramas on television (word is the guy who made the OC is coming out with Gossip Girl which will be just as bad. Don’t worry. I’m steering clear).

I know. This video sucks and you can’t see his face. And, quite frankly, there were only 12 people at this show which was supposed to be the CD launch party for the album “Guilt by Association,” a collection of indie artists covering their favorite guilty pleasure songs (Farina covered Eddie Money’s “Two Tickets to Paradise”). So that sucked too. But I discovered a now-defunct band you may want to know about.

The song in the video is “Some Sinatra” and is from Farina’s past band called Secret Stars (Deathcab for Cutie covered their song “Wait”) and I’m embarrassed for not knowing of them before. Secret Stars was founded in 1993 and I really could have used this break-up song in high school.

Farina is working on a new band called Glorytellers, which should come out with an album next year.