PERFORMING ARTS

A Place to Bury Strangers

A Place to Bury Strangers didn't make anyone's ears bleed at the 9:30 club Tuesday night. Perhaps it was because the trio actually took the stage early Wednesday morning, a rare midweek late show at the venue that might have necessitated decibel restrictions. More likely, though, it's because the sonic blast served up by the so-called loudest band in New York is a skillfully balanced one that's more interesting than obnoxious, pleasantly dramatic if not exactly pleasant.

A first-timer might expect more of an assault, considering the group's aural reputation as well as lead singer-shoegazer Oliver Ackermann's day job as the founder of an effects-pedal company, Death by Audio. But though there was no threat of bass-induced fibrillation, APTBS was hardly a letdown. Live, the band's repertoire of '80s-influenced atmospheric psychedelia is a slightly different beast, its vocals and melodies still discernible but buried beneath layers and layers of effects that imitate sounds from shrieks to jets to the low roar of the world as filtered through water in your ears. The tracks, most off the group's self-titled 2007 debut, were strung together without a beat, a "thank you" or even a glance at the audience to break up the 45-minute set, accompanied by faintly projected images that were more shadow- than light show.

That is, until APTBS's now-standard climax. During the penultimate "I Know I'll See You," Ackermann took a pull off a beer and scanned the crowd with large, whoa-dude eyes. And then the freakout began: With the band strobe-lit from below, the song exploded into astonishingly invigorating and still palatable noise as Ackermann went nuts with his guitar, flinging it and himself around until the instrument finally ended up on the floor, still squealing. This segued into set-closer "Ocean," during which the singer reprised his breakdown with a different ax. It wasn't nearly as theatrical the second time around, but the thrill lingered.

-- Tricia Olszewski

Milton Nascimento

Milton Nascimento's guitar sticks out considerably farther from his belly than it did in the early '70s, when he made a name for himself by lacing bossa nova with swinging-London cool, but the remarkable thing about the Brazilian icon's performance Wednesday at the Birchmere was how much remains of the young Turk from Minas Gerais. Nascimento's once-sharp tenor voice has roughened and deepened, but his frequent falsetto trips still soared above the unadorned arrangements of the Jobim Trio.

With that group (a quartet this night), Nascimento recently recorded "Novas Bossas," which revisits what some consider to be the first bossa nova album, 1958's "Canção do Amor Demais." Much of the music on that recording was written by Antonio Carlos Jobim, father and grandfather of the trio's guitarist, Paulo Jobim, and pianist Daniel Jobim, respectively.

Nascimento did a fine if sometimes perfunctory job of summoning the sadness and sunshine of songs such as "Chega de Saudade" and "Medo de Amar," but the show sparked when the group dipped into his 1972 dreamy samba masterpiece "Clube da Esquina." Drummer Paulo Braga laid a steam-train beat under "O Trem Azul," and rousing versions of "Tudo Que Você Podia Ser" and "Cravo É Canelo" fired up a mostly Portuguese-speaking crowd. A particular high point was a new song by Daniel Jobim, "Dias Azuis," on which Nascimento joined him behind the keyboard for a four-hand turn. But it was the encore of Nascimento's great "Maria Maria" that had the audience samba-ing out, singing like soccer fans whose team had just won, into the cool Virginia night.

-- Andrew Beaujon