…And it's because of all of this that I was, frankly, leaning closer to the bummer side of the scale when I left the Fillmore that night. The performance - well, it was good, but who wants "good" when bearing witness to a legendary artist onstage? "Good" is a perfectly acceptable adjective when you're catching a new band for the first time, or maybe when seeing a performer with whom you haven't invested much emotionally. Sorry to play Captain Obvious here, but good ain't bad. And yeppers, I've seen plenty of bad shows, often of the cynical autopilot variety (reunion shows by the Sisters of Mercy and, sadly, the Pixies, in recent years spring to mind). Thankfully, Siouxsie steered clear of such depths. But who wants to leave a concert hall within moments of an icon exiting the stage thinking, "Hmm, that wasn't bad. Pretty good, I guess."

The sneaking feeling that I might be soon be having such thoughts hit me right from the beginning - Siouxsie seemed to have zero-rapport with her backup band, thus leaving a tremendous mental disconnect between her leg-kicking, vamping showmanship and the occasionally less-than-inspired musical accompaniment. In defense of the group, everybody knew the songs well enough and turned in decent performances - but there were no sparks. Instead, I sensed that these players were cobbled together at the eleventh hour by the record company or whomever, and then given a two-week crash-course in Siouxsie 101. If so - well, good on 'em for pulling it off. A shame, though, that Siouxsie didn't take the time to get comfortable with them.

Unfortunately, it showed: I only caught two moments of interaction between her and a band member during the entire show, and one of them was as they were leaving the stage. And when I say "interaction," I'm including mere eye-contact in this category, people. There is something inherently odd about a musical performance in which the vocalist appears to be operating completely independently of her supporting band.

I wouldn't toss the show into the cynical-box, though: Siouxsie seemed in high spirits, smiling and smirking and strutting and stalking and letting loose plenty of her signature moves. Her voice was as compelling and alluring as ever. And let's face it: she looked hot, glammed out in her champagne-and-silver stretch suit, which showed off her "how can you be 50?" body. Effort was being made, that's for sure, but I have to wonder if she was pushed into this tour by her management - every now and then, I couldn't help but hear, underneath the howl, a moan or two of, "Sweet Christ, I wish I was back home in France!" Not that I could blame her really - I can't imagine putting out that much energy to meet the expectations of others when I hit 50.

The show focused mainly, of course, on Mantaray, and overall the songs translated decently to the live setting. The elegant sweeping drama of "Sea of Tranquility" was a highlight, just as it is on the album. Here, Siouxsie surrendered to the lushness of her surroundings, bringing evocative phrasing and an effective late-night romantic intimacy to the song. Floor-banging emancipation-anthems "Into a Swan" and "About to Happen" carried enough boom and bluster to keep the crowd in twirling, fist-pumping motion, but the delightfully odd "Drone Zone" suffered under a muffled, unsure shuffle and a lackluster delivery. In a bigger disappointment, the stop-dead-in-your-tracks balladry of "If It Doesn't Kill You" limped along onstage, largely due to the band's failure to tether any sort of dynamic backdrop to Siouxsie's do-or-die confessional. Somewhere in the middle of the continuum sits "Here Comes That Day" - on Mantaray, the James Bond-evoking horn-blasting vamp is pure villainess bliss - but Tuesday's interpretation edged a little too close to camp, thus whittling away at the thrills and chills of the original. Somewhere in that crowd, a drag queen was surely taking notes.

A few Siouxsie and the Banshees numbers were included as well. "Dear Prudence" - yeah, a Beatles song, blah blah blah, but the Banshees made it theirs, didn't they? - was nice to hear, but felt phoned-in. "Night Shift," "Hong Kong Garden," and "Nicotine Stain" provided the evening's greatest surprises - not only was I not expecting to hear them, but each was delivered with impressive punch and kick, resulting in some of the most appreciative fan responses of the evening. I don't recall any Creatures tributes, sadly, but the delirious mindwhirl of "Cish Cash" was given a romping tear-through - didn't see that one coming, either.

Ultimately, though, the show felt a tad too short, and it lacked the fire and ice so deeply associated with the music of Siouxsie's legendary career. The final encore - a capable but uninspired take on the Doors' "Hello I Love You" - might have been the most telling moment of all. Midway through the song's performance, all I could think about was that Friday-afternoon feeling - you know, when you're wrapping up your workweek, but your mind is already on the commute home and the weekend which lies beyond? Watching everybody onstage - including a peerless performer who has meant more to me than I could ever possibly express - punch their clocks like that before quitting time had confirmed what I'd been mulling over all evening. Is "good" good enough?

Perhaps so - everyone I talked to or overheard seemed glad to have gone. Still, descending the steps out of the Fillmore onto Geary, I noticed a lack of the familiar post-concert throb-and-buzz among the crowd. Were they thinking the same things I'd been stewing over all evening?

If any of you folks were there either night, I'd love to hear your take on the show. What did you think?