I'll Admit I'm Feelin' Strange
I wasn't completely in my right mind when I wrote my review. I hadn't slept all night because of the necessity of driving back from Chicagoland. I bought the wrong groceries and forgot to wash my hair in the shower.
Lest I give the untrue sexist impression that I am only interested in the boy Decemberists, I will add to my review that Rachel was in especially fine form, twirling drumsticks and singing with artful abandon. I managed to get a picture of her drum this time.

Jenny is always so into it when she plays, it's like she's in a sort of trance--in a good way. She had her little blue stuffed guy on her keyboard again. Some sort of good voodoo musician thing?
Also, the crowd was really into the songs. There was much singing. Colin caught on right away and changed his timing and delivery a little once in a while, with an impish grin. Usually I object to boistrous singing at shows, as I have paid my hard-earned cash to hear the band, not some drunken frat boy, though quiet mouthing of lyrics by obsessive fans like myself is perfectly OK. There were a few of them near me, it seemed, always yelling for Grace Cathedral Hill or Legionnaire, and, later in the show, they were joined by a chorus of girls, who sang, very loudly, the smutty bits of The Tain, which made Jenny laugh, I noticed. (Me too.)
Oh, and I haven't mentioned poor Nate at all. He's really great, the way he switches between bowing, plucking, and bass guitar so seemlessly. I was entranced by his tuner, set up on top of his amp. It has strobing red chase lights and lit up with notes as he played.
And, while I'm being so inclusive, I'll mention the merch girl. She was very nice and rolled Ada's poster with expert care. I noticed that during the band's set she was taking video. Hopefully she won't keep it all to herself.