By: David Schultz

Not long into The Decemberists’ set as part of Central Park’s Summerstage series, Colin Meloy, the Portland, Oregon band’s bespectacled lead singer, sardonically noted that they might not be the ideal entertainment for a balmy summer evening. Unless your idea of an uplifting night out involves listening to songs about enslaved avian wildlife, letters from a lost ship at sea or being swallowed by a whale, Meloy may have imparted a small nugget of truth. However, judging from the rapt attention being paid by the sold-out crowd at the Rumsey Playfield that braved legitimate threats of rain to be there with Meloy and The Decemberists, it seems exactly what many people consider a satisfying way to spend a couple hours.

In The Crane Wife, The Decemberists pulled off one of the more difficult tricks of the indie world, moving onto a major label and releasing one of the most critically beloved albums of 2006 while managing not to alienate the lion’s share of their fans. Their fourth full-length release possessed the band’s normal highbrow subject matter with songs based upon Japanese legends, the siege of Leningrad, Civil War correspondence and the emotional stress resulting from love that threatens to cross West Side Story style gang lines. They've carried the momentum from The Crane Wife’s success well into the summer concert season.

Taking the stage after their customary playing of the Russian National Anthem, the quirky quintet, who are apparently using the same clothier as the Arcade Fire, looked more like a group of teachers emerging from the break room than one of the most talked about bands of the past year. They opened thematically, going deep into their catalog for “July July” and “Billy Liar” before diving into “Summersong,” one of the many Crane Wife songs that would populate their main set.

For the most part, The Decemberists didn't deviate far from their recorded arrangements; although keyboardist Jenny Conlee gave an edgier Talking Heads feel to the bouncy keyboard riff that propels “The Perfect Crime #2.” The middle third of the set was their strongest, with “The Island,” their 10 minute plus prog-rock suite that includes a Wings inspired preface as well as a couple Yes derived keyboard breaks, stealing the show. The stunning version of their surprisingly sweet, three-part epic about the rape and murder of a landlord’s daughter, magnificently changed tempo and style in much the same way as Jethro Tull’s “Thick As A Brick.” They kept the momentum going, finishing their main set with strong versions of “O Valencia” and “Sons And Daughters,” leaving the final fade out to the audience, making the prayer for peace a nice campfire sing-along.

As an added incentive to bail out of work a little early, Brooklyn based indie-darlings Grizzly Bear playing an opening set for their West coast counterparts. Curiously, Grizzly Bear, whose haunting atmospheric harmonies are ideal for late-nights or David Lynch road house scenes, seemed to have an outdoors set. They didn't exactly get funky, but they did leave their more sedate work out of their set list. With Christopher Baer standing at his drums, Ed Droste and Daniel Rossen worked a bit of a daytime lilt into their songs, while Chris Taylor provided many of the band’s various odd instrumentations. The lo-fi dreaminess of “On A Neck, On A Spit,” “Knife” and their updated version of the folk standard “Deep Blue Sea” drew the Summerstage crowd in with the same intimacy as if they were in a cozy club setting.

Cognizant of the onerous, rigorously enforced 10:00 p.m. curfew, The Decemberists didn't tarry between songs with the habitually chatty Meloy keeping his stage banter to a minimum. As a result, they finished with quite some time to spare. In contrast to the polished main set, the encore seemed a relatively ramshackle affair focusing on older material like “Chimbley Sweep and “The Mariner’s Revenge.” Not only did Meloy silence the band in a fashion that involved a heroic pratfall from Nate Query and his upright bass, he enticed the entire standing room only crowd to sit down as well. The slapdash feel of the encore hardly detracted from its effect; in fact, with time to relax and enjoy themselves, they finally were able to exhibit the playful, idiosyncratic behavior everyone had come to see.