Sometimes, taking a bus into Toronto when you have a pair of essays looming and a big test on Friday that you haven't studied for and an 8:30 class the next morning that you should go to but sure as hell won't...sometimes it is SO worth it.

This was my second time seeing The Decemberists, and once again they blew me right out of the water with their strange blend of soft acoustic, strange melodies and vaguely prog-rock riffs. Colin Meloy (lead singer) knows how to work the stage, climbing into the audience, rolling around with his guitar and pulling the audience into his frenetic energy.

From what I can remember, the track listing (not in order and a few are missing) went along the lines of:

Crane Wife 3
Engine Driver
16 Military Wives
Crane Wife 1 & 2
The Island/Come and See/You'll Not Feel the Drowning
Sons & Daughters
Perfect Crime
July July!
Red Right Ankle
Yankee Bayonette
O! Valencia
The Legionnaire's Lament
Culling of the Fold
I Was Meant for the Stage
We Both Go Down Together

I think I managed to get most of the set there.

Their opener was a wonderful man named Alasdair Roberts, a native of Glasgow who sang some lovely Scottish and Irish folk songs as well as a few of his own, all tinged with his glorious accent. It was a relaxing set, but thankfully he was talented and I was in the mood for a wee bit o' quiet music.

When the Decemberists got on stage (preceded once again by Peter & the Wolf), the crowd went wild, but quickly shut up as the wistful chords of 'Crane Wife 3' rang out to start the show. Just like last time, their music travelled straight to my core - I almost cried during a few of the sadder songs (and 'Engine Driver'), and the other tunes had me dancing and obeying every one of Meloy's directions to the crowd.

Highlights include his rendition of '16 Military Wives', where he split the crowd 'like the American political scene' and had us shaking our fists, growling and 'la dee dah-ing' at the other half of the room.

The incredible b-side 'Culling of the Fold' had a vaguely Klezmer undertone and worked Meloy into a frenzy, reminding me of Mr. Gord Downie as he fought with the mic stand and wrapped the mic cord around his neck, miming a hanging. The song itself dealt with usual Decemberists fare - death and murder with a ballad-like feel.

The last song of the first set was 'Sons & Daughters', and Meloy betrayed the band's political (and social) leanings as he directed the audience in singing the refrain, "hear all the bombs fade away," saying, "election day is tomorrow - maybe if all 2,000 of you sing, they'll hear you across the border."

The encore was pretty generous, 3 or 4 songs, and I believe it was during this time that I discovered a new favourite song of theirs. Don't you just love finding out about a song you've overlooked while its beuatiful lyrics float around your head? 'Red Right Ankle' was absolutely, absolutely delicious.

The final moments of the concert devolved into a clash of pure sound, as Meloy writhed on the floor with his guitar, the double bass player kneeled with the massive instrument across his lap, and the lovely violinist knelt and played passionately, while the drummer played a strong backup beat. It was an intensely rock n' roll moment, and I loved it.

Evidently I am now even more in love with The Decemberists than ever before, and have now officially declared them, "The #1 Band I Need To See Every Time They Come To Town."

Mmmmmmmmm.

So good.