PERFORMING ARTS

Crosby, Stills & Nash At Wolf Trap

What's in those immunosuppressive drugs, anyway? David Crosby sang his heart (and transplanted liver) out on Saturday; it's fair to say that he sounded better on the Wolf Trap boards than he has on many stages, at many stages of his problem-riddled life.

Crosby, Stills & Nash made what might have been merely a geezerfest into a credible musical event. The sexagenarians chose their newer numbers judiciously from 2004's "Crosby & Nash" album, including the meditative "Lay Me Down" and the Yucca Mountain-inspired rocker "Don't Dig Here." Stephen Stills, who offered a couple of selections from his upcoming release, seemed to exist largely in a separate universe from Crosby and Graham Nash, only rarely joining in the group's vaunted harmonies but happy to swagger to the edge of the stage for credibly coruscating electric-guitar solos.

While the backing band added atmosphere to big musical statements like "Cathedral" and "Southern Cross," it usually seemed more of a crutch -- an unneeded one -- than an enhancement. Though they're all fine players -- particularly Crosby's keyboardist son James Raymond and guitarist Jeff Pevar -- the five men muddied up the mix on a somewhat belabored "Marrakesh Express." When Crosby, on eloquent acoustic guitar with Nash on backing vocals, crooned "Guinnevere," he made time stop. When he and his gray buddies threw themselves headlong into "Almost Cut My Hair," they revealed how much time had passed since their heyday, but they did it with humor, affection and panache.

-- Pamela Murray Winters

Devo at the 9:30 Club

Of all American new-wave bands, Devo had the most elaborate act. Indeed, the made-in-Ohio quintet's yellow jumpsuits, robotic moves and "energy" (aka "flowerpot'') hats often upstaged such hits as "Whip It" and "Girl U Want." Saturday night at the 9:30 club, however, the music proved sturdier than the shtick.

The latter was at a disadvantage partially because of a technical problem -- the group's video system was on the fritz -- but also because Devo's jerky rhythms and potent riffs have aged better than the musicians themselves. It's hard to look like streamlined men of the future when potbellies and receding headlines reveal your middle-aged mundanity.

Devo never officially disbanded, but has been inactive for most of the last 15 years. (The group's principal songwriters, Mark Mothersbaugh and Gerald Casale, support themselves by composing movie soundtracks and directing commercials and videos, respectively.) Heard today, the band's sci-fi synth-punk is revealed as the missing link between the Ramones and Depeche Mode. Yet the Saturday performance -- the first of two nights at the club -- surveyed the music's development in devolutionary order. Three of the five musicians played staccato keyboard riffs during the opening third of the show, but then raucous guitars took control.

It hardly mattered. Such taut, twitchy Devo standards as "Jocko Homo" and "Uncontrollable Urge" would probably have been just as visceral if played on ukulele. Some of the evening's songs fizzled, but overall the band's oldies were more compelling than such familiar props as Mothersbaugh's oversize cowboy hat. And it's unlikely that a functioning video setup would have changed that.