Dashboard Confessional, Newport, 11/3

At the sold-out Dashboard Confessional show Saturday night at the Newport, there was a couple standing in front of me who arrived at the venue surly and arguing. This argument, which seemed to involve something about standing in the balcony instead of the ground floor, continued throughout the two opening bands. At some points arms were flailing, at others arms were planted on hips, and later arms were rigidly folded. A couple of times, the male combatant would simply walk away, only to return and continue the argument.

I know it’s voyeuristic, but it was a train wreck I couldn’t stop watching, and there really couldn’t be a more fitting place to witness it. It was like a real-life enactment of Dashboard Confessional’s songs, all penned and sung by heartbreak kid Chris Carrabba, who is playing solo on this tour. The tunes are uncomfortably honest, super-sensitive stories of relationships gone wrong, complete with insecurities, details about types of lipstick and colors of T-shirts and lots of emoting--hence Dashboard’s synonymy with modern emo.

Carrabba’s songs create intense fan devotion, especially in women and sensitive men in high school and college, and when these fans get together live, it’s one giant sing-along. Like him or loathe him, one can’t deny the connection he makes with his audience. Everyone at the Newport was singing at the top of their lungs along with Carrabba, and he’d frequently stand on the edge of the stage and let the crowd sing entire verses on their own. They loved it. By the end of the first song the previously angry couple was arm in arm. By the third song, hands were in each other’s back pockets, and by the fifth song it was full-on concert canoodling.

Carrabba played songs spanning his career--tunes from his early EPs that he used to play solo while opening for punk bands, and tracks from more recent albums Dusk and Summer and The Shade of Poison Trees. He’s perhaps best-known now by the hit song “Vindicated,” which he wrote for the Spiderman 2 soundtrack (Peter Parker is, after all, the most emo of all superhero alter egos). Carrabba also made sure to play “Screaming Infidelities,” a fan favorite with the trademark lyrics, “Your hair, it’s everywhere/Screaming infidelities and taking its wear.” His voice sounded pretty much like it does on record, alternating between whispers and earnest yells.

The whole vibe was downright cute at first, and Carrabba has a likable, humble stage persona with a self-deprecating sense of humor. The odd thing is, he’s 32. There’s something strange about a 32-year-old man belting out relationship songs that seem straight out of a pubescent journal. At this stage in his career, you’d think there’d be more of a sense of maturity in the songs. It’s like how Mike Jeffries, CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch, still wears sandals and ripped jeans and sports ultra-blond hair even though he’s in his 60s. Something about it just doesn’t seem quite right. (Though I doubt Carrabba has a picture of a male torso hanging above his bed like Jeffries does.)

Also, the incessant song breaks with crowd singing got a little old, as did Carrabba’s several requests for the crowd to sing along even though they obviously were already. Maybe I’m just getting old, but when I go to a concert, I’d like to hear the artist sing more than the audience. That’s why he’s onstage and we’re not.

Still, Carrabba’s such a puppy dog that it would be downright cruel not to believe his sincerity or to mistake his passion for pandering. He just wants his sad songs to make you happy.

Opener John Ralston played safe, boring pop rock, but Augustana was a pleasant surprise, conjuring up memories of August and Everything After-era Counting Crows. It was piano pop rock that must be a record label’s dream with its cross-platform appeal, especially the radio single, “Boston,” a song you’d most likely be embarrassed to admit you enjoy because your mom would probably really like it. Singer Dan Layus has a great voice but also had the annoying trait of constantly holding his finger up to his ear monitor while he sang. And he really likes to hear himself croon, even excessively singing along to guitar solos. But at least he’s good at it.