POP MUSIC

Fiona Apple, seen in performance in New York's Central Park last month, and a publicity photo of the Evens. (By Jeff Christensen -- Associated Press)

Fiona Apple

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This time was going to be different. Fiona Apple's summer headlining tour of theaters and wine-and-brie outdoor joints was supposed to feature widely varying sets, surprise covers and a more gregarious approach from the notoriously tempestuous singer. But in front of a devoted crowd at Wolf Trap on Monday night, Apple was her old terse, moody self, stomping though a set that was simply difficult to enjoy, her music sadly relegated to moody backdrop for personal catharsis.

"Extraordinary Machine," the 28-year-old's much-labored-over third album, is Apple at her ripest, but the crisp efficiency of the compositions on that disc were miles away from the storm she kicked up Monday. With her piano and voice pushed far in front of her backing band (two keyboards, bass and drums), the effect of songs like "On the Bound," "Tymps" and "Not About Love" was unbalanced, her voice a sustained shout that suggested genuine turmoil. "Sleep to Dream" summed it up better: "I got my own hell to raise." And she did, smacking herself in the head and shouting off mike to no one in particular.

The lightest moment came when she remarked that the sweat showing through her floor-length blue dress looked like an inkblot and "I don't want to know what it means." But many in the crowd desperately did, hanging on every word of the career-surveying set and basking in the gritty singing. For Fiona connoisseurs, it seems, the show was perfect because it put personality before performance. But for those who simply enjoy her cleverly crafted music, this bite of the Apple was far too bitter.

-- Patrick Foster

The Evens

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There are many reasons for the Evens to exist, but watching them perform Monday night at Fort Reno, it was easy to imagine that the guitar-drum duo had been formed precisely for the Tenleytown park's annual summer concert program.

The hootenanny-punk group couldn't make enough noise to disturb the neighbors, but easily held the attention of the several hundred fans assembled in the field. The show was relaxed, congenial and eminently local: In addition to "Mount Pleasant Isn't," a song about police-community relations in D.C.'s post-punkiest neighborhood, the Evens played a new song that announces, with an apparent mix of pride and irony, that "Washington is our city."

Ian MacKaye and Amy Farina sit while performing, but their music is stirring enough that some people felt compelled to stand. It wasn't exactly the mosh pit generated by earlier MacKaye bands Minor Threat and Fugazi, but by the show's end, dozens of people stood near the stage, a testament to the musical force within the band's stripped-back sound.

MacKaye strained against the two-piece format, his voice turning throaty at times as he tried to push beyond the group's limited firepower. At the other end of the scale, gentler songs lost their shape amid the ambient music of insects, motorcycles and an ice cream truck. Somewhere in between, however, the Evens were in complete control. On "You Won't Feel a Thing" and "All These Governors," the two voices and two instruments -- or three, since MacKaye alternates between rhythm-guitar strums and bass-guitar riffs -- seemed as big as all outdoors.

-- Mark Jenkins