Chalk it up to classical conditioning. Am I just as brain-locked as Pavlov’s poor dogs slobbering at the dinner bell? Because here I am, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a dozen happy concert-goers at Pinback, wishing I was instead listening to these tunes on my couch, at home with an Xbox controller in hand.

“HERE’S ANOTHER UPPER FROM OUR TREASURE TROVE OF FEEL-GOOD HITS.” –Rob Crow

That’s frontman/multi-instrumentalist Rob Crow reminding us what we’re hearing. And it’s perplexing to me, and I guess presumably Rob, why the kids are so rowdy tonight. They’re yelling “FUCK YEAH” and “Whoo!” like this is some irony-steeped dance rock show and it just seems so creepy and out of place.

Pinback tunes, in case you’re unfamiliar, are technical, geek-headed and mathy, carefully constructed from many tiny moving parts, fueled by the gentle interplay between Rob Crow’s nasal narration and Armistead Burwell Smith IV’s calculated moan.

AWAY FROM KEYBOARD

Back to the Pavlovian dog thing: for me, Pinback tunes are inextricably linked to hours I spent sitting in blue-lit living rooms, blissed out on opiates, playing video games and Magic: The Gathering.

I probably shouldn’t admit any of the above in print—which is more damning—Rx misuse or fantasy gaming? But Crow and Smith have never been afraid to sport their indoor-kid pedigree, dropping song titles like “Offline P.K.” (offline player kill, an MMO term) and “AFK” (away from keyboard). They even titled a track on the newest album “Blue Harvest,” the phony production title used to conceal the filming of “Return of the Jedi.”

So why the fuck is there a sweaty beer-spilling bro hugging me and hooting? This guy couldn’t tell the difference between a Necropotence and a Stormbind.

Some clown actually yelled “Testosterone!” during “Boo”…

“YOU TASTE MY TEARS.” –Pinback, “Bouquet”

The performance itself is off-putting and bitter. Crow sets the tone early by bringing up keyboardist Terrin Durfey. Some dude named Braden was filling in, and Crow goes “Braden is a cool dude and all…” but reminded the audience that the tour was to raise money for Durfey’s battle with cancer. Like, this was even before they launched into the first song, “Bouquet,” off last year’s Autumn of the Seraphs.

Fair enough right? Dude is dying. Plus, as Crow said, Pinback has never had an oeuvre of feel-good party songs. I’m totally in the mood to be bummed out and lullabied to death. But the rest of these goons disagree. There’s an awkward grasshopper-chirp moment of silence and then some chick yells “BANANA!” because Crow carried onstage a banana snack for later.

This is a common theme in my group of friends: are we too old for shows? Or rather, are shows getting younger and dumber? Okay, so sure Pinback may not work the best as a live act—their melodic graphic calculator functions come off as workmanlike noise bricks when carved out live, their lyrics, gentle and bruised, get lost in the mix—but seriously, fans disrespecting a cancer battle? Fuck you guys.

“WHY DO YOU GUYS ALWAYS WANT OLD SHIT?” –Rob Crow

Pinback chugs through their catalog, fan-serving us with “Tripoli” and “Boo” from the self-titled and Blue-Screen Life albums. But their hearts aren’t in it. In the complex interplay of crowd vibe and musical performance, we pissed Crow off and he’s mailing it in. In the middle of the set, they give us old faves “Offcell” (“Drones in the air!”) and “Non-Photo Blue,” as well as new semi-classics “Fortress” and “Good To Sea.” And the playing is sweet, but cold, and the tempo seems jacked up artificially. Quiet bands often play faster live, but this seems a bit like retribution for the crowd’s crappiness.

There’s no question that Pinback are a band in uncomfortable transition, moving away from the tender-but-opaque math club confessionalism in favor throwing us more rock hooks and explanatory hints, but that’s fine. Like, last year they were on NPR. It’s weird how groups like Pinback and Ratatat flirt for a hot minute with grownup coffee-mug/tote-bag intellectualism when they leave their fanbase. It never lasts though, and it seems like they always become a bro band. Explosions in the Sky, I’m looking directly at you.

“ACUTE ANGLES DIVIDE MY PATH THAT I HAVE LOST.” –Pinback, “Sender”

Hey no doubt, a band has to grow up and obscure reference elitism is so 1999. (Example: Pinback takes its name from a character the 1974 sci-fi gagfest “Dark Star.” And, in case you didn’t get the reference, now they play clips from Dark Star projected on the wall behind them during the show. Subtle, right?)

Accordingly, the new shit is chunkier, and more upbeat. And luckily, still pretty good. The material off “Autumn of the Seraphs” is downright muscular and translates much better to shitty live acoustics. The Tron-grids of (occasional) double bass, illuminated by keyboard noodling and riding on rails of Morse code drumming still mark them as a geek band, but they’re not excluding girls and bros, obviously. It’s like throwing a party where you have your real friends over early and play a round of four-player free-for-all Magic before all the hotties and jocks show up and trash your parents’ house.

Except I don’t go to house parties anymore. Or play Magic. Or eat pills. Have I grown out of all of it? I’m the same inside though and I think Pinback is too: Crow was defiantly wearing a goddamned Meshuggah hat with a Clockwork Orange shirt. Homeboy belonged at Blizzcon or something. But that doesn’t soften the blow. For me, Pinback is too smart, and well, too private to be paired with $8 beers and the predatory scene at the ‘Plex.

The guys gave the audience a four-song encore, but we didn’t deserve it.

Give money to help Terrin Durfey and his family here: http://terrindurfeyfundraiser.org/

Check out the full set of Pinback live show photos

NOTE: Terrin Durfey, the former bassist for Pinback, died early on the morning of October 28, 2008 after a decade-long struggle with cancer. Visit this message board link for more information => http://www.electrical.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=40132