Man Man, Yeasayer - Wexner Center, 4-15

At the Wexner Center, even the most lively bands have a hard time getting the crowd physically moving. It’s certainly nice that the venue’s Mershon, Black Box and Performance Space audiences are reverent and attentive, but for some of the more frenetic concerts, the Wex can sometimes feel a bit too stiff.

Man Man took that challenge and came out on top, working the crowd into an absolute frenzy with its boisterous brand of circus rock. The Philadelphia band--whose members go by Honus Honus, Chang Wang, Sergei Sogay, Cougar and Pow Wow--played in its trademark white with partially painted faces, and mustachioed singer/keyboardist/percussionist/squeaker Honus went a step further and also wore short, white cutoffs. His endless exuberance was contagious.

While the band employed two principal percussionists, everyone on stage was a percussionist at some point, often simultaneously banging on tom toms to create a tribal feel. As goofy as these guys are, they’re also experts at finding a groove and seeing it through. Other instruments that were passed around or shared included saxophone, trumpet, xylophone, melodica, keys (the car variety), pots and various squeaky things that wouldn’t look out of place on a kid’s first bike.

Most of the material from the new album, Rabbit Habits, was a delight to hear and see live. Kicking off the well-attended show with “Mister Jung Stuffed” and “Hurly/Burly” set the tone for the night with a rambunctious, playful vibe. The chantey rhythm and dynamic pauses of “Big Trouble” worked exceptionally well, as did the falsetto chant mid-song: “You walk like a man, but you talk like a fool. You strut like a stallion, but you hump like a mule.”

Apparently the all-white getups weren’t enough for “The Ballad of Butter Beans,” so Honus threw on a black-and-gold sequined top and a gold headband for that song, which especially showcased one of the adept drummer’s talent.

What’s probably most impressive about Man Man is that it can be so over-the-top playful, yet it’s also apparent that the songs are by no means a bunch of jokes. There’s humor, for sure, but Honus means what he says, and being both jovial and earnest is one of the hardest feats to pull off. Take one of the songs from the encore, “Van Helsing Boombox.” It’s a fun, raucous tune, but the hook, which is repeated several times, isn’t the least bit cheery: “When anything that’s anything becomes nothing, that’s everything, and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have.” It’s downright depressing, but you’ll find the band reveling in the tragedy rather than sulking.

While Man Man’s set felt nicely organic, Yeasayer’s songs were much more digital and scripted than I had anticipated. The whole set was accompanied by computer visuals that seemed to be used more because they looked cool and trippy rather than because they had anything to do with the songs themselves. The programmed vibe wasn’t necessarily bad, just unexpected.

Singer/keyboardist Chris Keating’s stop-motion tics made him look as if he were constantly being hit in the face by small mammals, but it was usually more entertaining than annoying. The band as a whole was spirited and engaging--that, along with the visual effects, inspired a fair amount of hippy dancing.

Yeasayer has a definite “world music” influence, but there weren’t sitars or anything. Just guitar, bass, drums (parts of which were electronic), keys and synthesized sounds. But amid the knob-turning and effects pedals were some pretty great tunes. “Sunrise,” “2080,” and “Wait for the Summer” are the band’s best songs and also happen to be the first three tracks off Yeasayer’s 2007 debut, All Hour Cymbals. They worked well live, though I’m still not too sure what the pretty-but-ominous tunes are supposed to convey, and whether I should care about it. But at least they sound nice.

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