A Dave Matthews Band concert is less a display of flashy, jam-rock musicianship than it is a sprawling party, although it’s the former too. The mood at Tuesday night’s sold-out show, the first of two at the Pepsi Center, fell somewhere between a Phish gig and a frat mixer, with the beer and well-mannered screams flowing freely.
While the performances were more or less faultless, it probably wasn’t the instrumental virtuosity that drew the most people. Matthews’ feel-good jam- rock has been a staple of the tie- dyed college experience since the early 1990s. Few attend a Matthews show to marvel at the intricate acoustic picking or jazzy horn interplay.
The audience seemed more concerned with finding an uplifting, transformative experience than scrutinizing the music, and the band delivered. Relaxed but insistent, the songs were rife with meandering solos that went down smoothly and bled into one another.
The chiming keyboard rakes that opened “Satellite” early in the set gave way when the drums kicked in and the tapestries hiding the light show and big-screen monitor fluttered to the ground. “Dreamgirl,” from the 2005 album “Stand Up,” followed, although Matthews’ vocals were at times obscured by the thunderous reverb from the monster drum kit.
Perhaps Matthews’ Virginia drawl just couldn’t cut through some of the vocally softer moments, especially when keys, saxophone and violin swelled in unison. Still, for a 17-year-old group, the enthusiasm in the playing was obvious. Matthews, clad in a yellow T-shirt and wide grin, certainly seemed to be having a great time as he bumped around the front of the stage.
Shedding his guitar at one point, he grabbed the mike and belted out a chorus with the ferocity of a soul singer. Feeding off the crowd and each other, saxophonist Leroi Moore, hair- swinging violinist Boyd Tinsley and keyboardist Butch Taylor pounded out the backing tracks. They sometimes deferred to guest trumpeter Rashawn Ross, whose beefy solos were the highlight of several songs.
Drummer Carter Beauford seemed to be nearly swallowed by his kit, although he knew exactly when to break out the maracas or cowbell. Songs like “Everyday” benefited from his technical, nuanced style. The cymbal-heavy “Crash Into Me” found the band working in perfect unison, the sing-songy coda drawing the audience deeper into hero worship.
The crowd was often bathed in multicolored light projections, emphasizing the unity in the venue, which undulated with free form dancing and unanimously loud applause.
It all feeds into the cult of Dave Matthews, a shadowy but enormous place filled with diehards and enough room for pretty much anyone else.
Staff writer John Wenzel can be reached at 303-954-1642 or jwenzel@denverpost.com.
