The Mall
Great American Music Hall, Feb. 24

CALLS OF & quot;Asshole!" and "Please be done!" erupted from the audience, but they sounded like ironic shout-outs as much as they did real heckles. The Mall were taking one of several relaxed breaks between playing spastic songs at their sold-out Noise Pop debut at the Great American Music Hall, and the ambiguity of the insults actually fit with the tone of the music – songs that quickly oscillated between tortured beauty and delinquent anger. (I found out from the band later that the hecklers were indeed their friends.)

The Mall's music doesn't necessarily cohere with stereotypical feminine musical tastes, but there was a surprising amount of positive feedback and enthusiastic bouncing from the ladies up front. The trio's youthful good looks are one explanation for the Mall's appeal to the female demographic, but as two young women – making a human tornado by leaning away from each other while holding hands – came hurtling out of the crowd and propelling into whoever got in their way, it was clear that they came for the music and to rock out.

Vocalist-guitarist-bassist Ellery Samson, keyboardist-guitarist Dan Tierney, and drummer Adam Cimino were crammed together in the center of the stage, which was filled with Hot Hot Heat's and Louis XIV's equipment. But their cramped appearance worked, spatially representing the tight sound they pulled off as a unit. Though the band all shared a boyish charm in their casual, fitted T-shirts and jeans, the music was a mature mixture of tense but danceable breakdowns and cacophonous, shouted pummels, hitting a nerve that was invigorating, irreverent, and personal.

Cimino's drumming – the revved engine for the band – created a sense of expertly controlled chaos and provided a launchpad for Tierney and Samson's alternately symbiotic and parasitic sonic relationship. At times Tierney's almost gothic keys and Samson's ripping guitar and deliberate bass work complemented each other perfectly; at others they seemed to be battling for space. It's this love-hate musical relationship that gives the Mall their distinct, conflicted sound. The band claim to write their songs quickly, but you wouldn't guess it by the seamless and complex changes of their less-is-more arrangements – the Mall are proof that a three-piece is more than adequate if each member is really on his or her game.

Samson's ironic, vocal chord-rending singing, which kicked between punk and hardcore, seemed thrown in almost as an afterthought, but it nonetheless brought an intensity and focus to the music. The singer, like the rest of the band, doesn't seem to take himself too seriously, but that night he delivered with a confidence that was at the root of the band's onstage charisma. All too often a not-yet-well-known band take the audience out of the performance due to their own obvious discomfort onstage. In contrast, the Mall came across as veterans, letting the audience know they would play their hearts out whether the room was packed or empty.

The Mall have also found a way to expand time. At the end of their set, I stared in disbelief at the clock, realizing only 25 minutes had gone by. Knowing the Mall's efficient song lengths, I was prepared, but as the concert unfolded, I was sure they had beefed up their set with more material. Though each part of their two-minutes-or-less songs only appears for a few bars, each is imbued with an urgency that partially slows your internal clock.

Too bad the room was only half full, even though the show was sold out. Due to the will-call and festival-badge policy, just as many people were outside in line as were inside for the Mall's set. I don't know how many people standing in the queue wanted to see the Mall, but I know that a lot of them would have enjoyed it and might even have tried to see them again if they got the chance. Despite the possibly curbed exposure, however, they made at least one new fan. (Keith Axline)