Photo by Michael Loccisano/Getty Images

By Sarah Rodman
Globe Staff

A review of Leonard Cohen in concert could consist of nothing but perfect couplets from his esteemed body of songs, each a world unto itself, and still not get at the depths of what transpired onstage. The quiet power, the original hipster cool, the resonant voice simultaneously evoking angels and demons, the unerringly tasteful nine-piece band attuned to Cohen's every lyrical nuance, the mordant humor, and amazing grace.

Stepping into the Citi Wang Theatre last night (the show repeats tonight) was like crossing the threshold of a grand and elaborately decorated mansion mid-party, where each room housed a guest offering wicked, witty, or wise advice on the ways of the world.

The only piece of advice the impressively lithe 74-year-old, who occasionally skipped about the stage and frequently went down to his knees, imparted during the bountiful three-hour-plus performance was to stay away from those lighted, magnifying hotel mirrors. Good advice.

Otherwise, 15 years after his last visit to Boston, Cohen and his band -- operating in the same lite jazz-rock neighborhood as Steely Dan but with more focus on ambience than groove -- dedicated themselves to the music.

Although he's generally not lauded as a vocalist but rather for his songwriting skills, Cohen's deep, chalky voice was a glorious thing. Whether he was pushing it to its limits on his most famous song, the majestic and oft-covered "Hallelujah"; applying sinister edges for the cynic's anthem "Everybody Knows"; or simply reciting the dark poetics of "A Thousand Kisses Deep," it was the perfect instrument for the job.

The attentive crowd bathed him in ovations and cheers at the ends of classic lines in famous songs including the vivid and devastating epistolary "Famous Blue Raincoat," the suddenly hopeful sounding "Democracy," and the dark sweep of "First We Take Manhattan." Cohen reciprocated with hat-on-his-heart gratitude.

If there's a quibble to be made, it's that, as tastefully as it was played, the music sometimes felt edgeless and occasionally alarmingly close to smooth jazz. But given the sharp lyrical shards roiling beneath the placid surface, maybe that was a necessity. There was no quibbling, however, with the band, which played with suppleness and telepathy, especially the chameleon-voiced trio of backing vocalists.

Part of the impetus for this tour stemmed from Cohen's recent financial problems, yet never has a performer seemed less like he was doing it for the money. As he told the crowd, "With so much of the world plunged into suffering and chaos, it is a real privilege to gather with you and the music." The feeling was mutual.

Sarah Rodman can be reached at srodman@globe.com.

Correspondent Scott McLennan was our man at the WBCN Rock ’N Roll Rumble Friday night:

The finals of the 31st annual WBCN Rock ’N Roll Rumble pitted polish, flamboyance, and grit against one another at the Middle East Downstairs Friday night, and in the end, polish conquered all as the Luxury took home the prize.

The pop rockers, playing in the wild card slot, faced off against the glam rock of Gene Dante and the Future Starlets and the guitar rock of the Dirty Truckers. A panel of five judges was left to decide which finalist, culled from an opening field of 24 bands, best played to its particular strength, and the Luxury left little room for argument.

The Luxury went on first, never the desired position in a battle of the bands. Yet rather than merely building up sandbags against formidable opponents, the band set a high standard with a wildly entertaining performance that never felt forced. It deftly deployed vocal harmonies and smartly employed keyboard-bolstered song arrangements to bridge arena bombast with club intimacy. Well-honed material such as the psychedelic “Malcontent” and gauzy “Rockets and Wrecking Balls” grounded the set, while new songs like the hard-charging “Next in Line” injected new energy.

The Luxury’s convincing Rumble win (one judge said the band was the runaway favorite) followed its selection to open for Coldplay last year at the TD Banknorth Garden, setting the stage nicely for a Luxury record release in July.

Singer Gene Dante and his Starlets offered a bit of lusty decadence that drew from such glam wellsprings as David Bowie and Duran Duran, while the Dirty Truckers kicked out old-fashioned rock bound up in roots and twang. Somewhere between the polar span separating the two, the Luxury found the sweet spot.

The Outlets, a Rumble band from the Class of 1981, performed a blistering special-guest set after the competitive rounds. The Barton brothers -- Rick on guitar, Alex on vocals -- expertly led their band through such past glories as “Knock Me Down” and “So Wired” that once defined Boston’s garage-punk-infused scene.

Witnessing the vets and aspiring Rumble participants together, it was easy to appreciate the expanse and continuity of the city’s vibrant music scene.

Correspondent Scott McLennan reports back from the New England Metal and Hardcore Festival in Worcester last Friday:

For heavy-metal fans, the opening of the 11th New England Metal and Hardcore Festival at the Palladium was like an early Christmas. Only louder. And sweatier.

Metal is not a style of music lauded for its nuance, but a creatively packaged fest brings to light the twists and turns the genre has to offer. On Friday, the bill ranged from the dire menace of the Acacia Strain to the subhuman thrash of UK vets Napalm Death to brutal diatribes from Suffocation to the taut wallop of All That Remains (above). It was gratifying to see the locally bred Acacia Strain and All That Remains deliver on the promise of so many previous Metalfest sets, which served as stepping stones in their respective careers. North Carolina's Between the Buried and Me delivered Friday’s most memorable set, rising above the din with manically paced epics that pushed the quintet past the traditional boundaries of aggressive music.

Best T-shirt of the night: a Spinal Tap-inspired “This festival goes to 11.”

With Saturday’s show headlined by Lamb of God sold out in advance, it seems Metalfest was able to trump the recession blues.

If you weren't one of the 72,000 people who snapped up tickets on Monday to the Sept. 20 U2 show at Gillette, pull yourself together and gear up for another try. The Irish rockers have added a second Gillette show on Sept. 21, and tickets go on sale Monday, April 6, at 10 a.m.

Tickets -- $32.50-$252.50 -- are available at www.livenation.com and at all Ticketmaster ticket centers, online at www.ticketmaster.com or by phone 800-745-3000.

Get on your boots, people!

There's nothing like a Christopher Cross tune to help the fried rice and egg rolls go down. Especially if he's singing it right in front of you.

The artist behind "Sailing" and "Ride Like the Wind" is performing an acoustic show at Kowloon restaurant in Saugus tonight at 8 p.m. $35 will get you in; $75 will get you a great seat and a reception with the man himself. And the proceeds are going to a good cause: the Music Drives Us Foundation. Call 781-233-0077 for tickets.

Correspondent Scott McLennan reports back about Friday's Taste of Chaos show:

WORCESTER -- The annual Taste of Chaos tour looked like another victim of downsizing when it was announced that this year's concerts would be held in smaller venues with fewer bands. But when the fifth annual edition of the show arrived Friday at the Palladium in Worcester -- with Cancer Bats, Pierce the Veil, Bring Me the Horizon, Four Year Strong, and headliners Thursday -- a packed house got way more than a taste of chaos; it got a hard-core banquet. Here’s a look at the menu:

The Jersey boys of Thursday, around since 1997, have long defied whatever label the music industry wants to apply to them. Not emo, not screamo, not even the all-encompassing "post-core" can corral Thursday, which just released its fifth album, the sharp and angular “Common Existence.”  The songs are thoughtful, powerful, and smartly constructed, and the live set Friday was genuinely heartfelt. The band sounded like what U2 might sound like if Bono wasn’t trying to be the Pope of Rock ’n’ Roll.

Four Year Strong nabbed pre-headliner status by dint of being Worcester guys who could attract a boatload of people to the Palladium. Yet they did not coast, delivering versions of “Bada Bing Wit’ a Pipe” and “Heroes Get Remembered, Legends Never Die” that turned the theater into a throbbing mosh pit.

Decadent UK import Bring Me the Horizon wrapped its taut metal-core around themes of sex, drugs and mayhem. The kids loved it; the parents will hate it once they catch wind of it. The band's "Chelsea Smile" is a front-runner for “Song to be Played when the Apocalypse Occurs.”

With its meticulously tailored trashy looks, disjointed music, impassioned pleas mistaken for singing, and ironic cover tune (“Billie Jean”), Pierce the Veil was the most stereotypical Warped-core band of the night. Even if you’ve never seen this band before, you have -- at least if you’ve been to a summer rock festival in the past five years.

Cancer Bats started things off by turning punk and metal influences into a bit of raw lunacy that handily lit the night’s fuse.

You must be sick of hearing me (and the rest of the Boston media) go on and on (and on) about Highland Kitchen, the fabulous year-old Somerville bar and restaurant, but I have yet another thing to praise: bands on Sunday nights. I've seen the Coachmen, a Johnny-Cash-meets-Willie-Nelson-by-way-of-Junior-Brown kind of band, and Al Kooper, the rock legend who played keyboards on Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" and discovered Lynyrd Skynyrd (among other astounding feats). It's crowded but not mobbed, and the drinks, food, and service are exceptional, as always. Oh, and it's free.

On tap for coming Sunday nights at the Kitchen: New Orleans funk and the Delta blues -- a truly fine way to start the week.

Phish is playing the Comcast Center June 6, one of 10 reunion shows the beloved jam band is playing that month. Tickets ($49.50) go on sale Saturday, Jan. 31, at 10 a.m. at the Comcast Center box office, 877-598-8689, or www.livenation.com.

Like swallows to Capistrano, metal bands and metal fans will flock to the Palladium in Worcester in April for the 11th annual New England Metal and Hardcore Festival. The most comprehensive fest for aggressive music on the East Coast, if not the country (if not the planet), Metalfest opens April 17 with heavy hitters All That Remains, Acacia Strain, Suffocation, Napalm Death, plus scads more. On April 18, dozens more take to the theater’s two stages, with the mightiest of the day being Lamb of God, As I Lay Dying, Children of Bodom, and God Forbid.

Tickets are $40 for Friday, $45 for Saturday, and $79 for a two-day pass, on sale tomorrow through Tickets.com. Check for schedules and full lineups here.

--- Scott McLennan

The new House of Blues has a number of great concerts coming up, including a highly anticipated appearance by Animal Collective May 14. And if this week's New York shows are any indication, tickets to the Boston performance will be in great demand.

According to a trusty New York correspondent, Animal Collective fans in New York have been clawing themselves apart in search of tickets. The first show was last night, at the Grand Ballroom (check out pix at www.brooklynvegan.com/archives/2009/01/animal_collecti_14.html), and the second show is tonight, at the Bowery Ballroom; both sold out almost immediately. The demand for tickets is fevered: on craiglist.org, tickets were going for up to $150 – some seven times the face value. (On bigger corporate sites, scalpers were unloading tix at considerably higher prices.) All this for a band that stressed on its most recent album, "Merriweather Post Pavillion," the need to look past "material things."

You can avoid those crazy resell prices by buying tickets to the Boston Animal Collective show ($20, plus hefty fees, of course) when they go on sale Friday at 10 a.m. Tickets are available at www.livenation.com, www.hob.com/boston and at all Ticketmaster ticket centers, online at www.ticketmaster.com or by phone 800-745-3000.

Jan. 20 show at the Grand Ballroom. Photo by Zach Dilgard

This just in from correspondent Scott McLennan:

Four Year Strong put on its second annual holiday homecoming concert Saturday at The Palladium in Worcester, once again shaking the sold-out venue with the next wave of pop-punk thrills.

Last year the band was capping a successful tour promoting the indie record “Rise or Die Trying,” and this year it's readying the masses for its next album, due out on the Warner Bros.-backed Decaydance label launched by Fall Out Boy honcho Pete Wentz. The buzz Saturday was that the record will come out in late spring or early summer, and that Four Year Strong is in contention for a few big summer tour packages. The band will also be joining Thursday and Bring Me the Horizon on the Taste of Chaos tour, coming to the Palladium Feb. 27.

The festivities Saturday included an indoor blizzard courtesy of strategically placed snow-effect machines and a lineup of bands that highlighted rising pop-core acts Lions Lions, Energy, and A Loss for Words. The show also included several calls for remembrance for Dominic Mallary, a well-known singer in the Central Mass. punk circuit who died earlier this year after a freak injury.

California's Set Your Goals (ably assisted by Bay State guitar shredder Jon Strader of No Trigger) lit the fuse with a chaotic set before the homegrown headliners sealed the deal with a razor-sharp performance. Singers and guitarists Alan Day and Dan O’Connor, synth player and singer Josh Lyford, bass player Joe Weiss, and drummer Jackson Massucco looked like they were having a blast belting out such signature tunes as “Bada Bing Wit’ A Pipe!” and “Maniac.” And the onstage frenzy proved infectious, igniting massive mosh action and overall joyous mayhem among the audience.

Expect good things in ’09 from Four Year Strong.

Driving five hours roundtrip to see a show on a cold December night might seem a little nutty, but when the destination is the cozy Club Helsinki in Great Barrington and the musician is former Soul Coughing lead singer Mike Doughty, it's actually an incredibly sane thing to do.

We made the trip last Friday night after work and arrived just in time to have dinner (we split a plate of chicken apple sausages with warm cabbage and potato latkes) before the show began. The tiny club is charming, with antiquey light fixtures and an intimate dark red glow -- a perfect spot for Doughty's Question Jar show, in which audiences members submit handwritten queries for Doughty and his cello-playing sidekick Scrap to answer -- or mock. We were four feet from the stage, close enough to see every smirk, every chord change, every crumpled question hit the floor.

It was a magical evening, and we made it back to Somerville safe and sound at 2:30 in the morning, fueled by gas station coffee and "Busting up a Starbucks" on the iPod. Club Helsinki hosts great artists -- Maceo Parker, Levon Helm, Odetta, even the rowdy Gogol Bordello -- and I'd make the drive again in a heartbeat.

[We were sitting so close I didn't even have to zoom in for this shot.]

Correspondent Ami Albernaz reports back from the Ray Davies show in Providence Wednesday night:

At Lupo's last night, Ray Davies blended old (Kinks stuff) with new (songs from his two solo albums), graciously shepherding the eager audience through the decades of his career. He dwelled in New Orleans, the provenance of numbers like "Morphine Song" (off this year's "Working Man's Cafe"), written as a tribute to the hospital staff that took care of him after he was shot in the leg during a mugging. Much of the largely middle-aged audience, as expected, was there to hear the songs of their youth -- and with characteristic charm and wit, Davies obliged. "Dedicated Follower of Fashion" and "Shangri-La" still rang true, and a high-voltage rendition of "You Really Got Me," aided by a full backing band, proved that 64-year-old Davies has still got it.

Globe Scene & Heard columnist Jonathan Perry reports back from the final Abbey Lounge show Wednesday night:

Perhaps the bathroom walls said it best: “Goodnight Abbey – Thank You! Was Real” someone had written, excitement trumping grammar, over a scarily neglected urinal. It was one of many scrawled men's-room tributes to the Somerville club, which hosted its last show on Wednesday night. A moment of silence – flush nothwithstanding – please.

The financially troubled venue, which officially shut its doors after months of speculation about its fate, had billed its final 10-band blowout as a “Last Blast.” Indeed, it was that and much more: a celebration and a commiseration, fueled by shared memories of nights spent in the beloved dive bar that soon became synonymous with Boston’s punk and underground rock scene when the revered and (ultimately) reviled Rat closed its doors in 1997.

“It felt like home for the band,” said Muck & the Mires frontman Evan Shore, surveying the stage he would take for the last time later that night. “We’ve played 35 shows here and we never had a bad time. When they started booking music, it was a clique – you were considered an ‘Abbey band’ and sometimes, you’d get heat for being an ‘Abbey band.’ But that’s what made it so great, because everybody knew each other.”

The joint was already filling up at 7 p.m., with a good chunk of folks raising Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboys and looking a little stunned but ready to give the good times one last go. The beginning of the end came with opener Jay Allen’s frisky set of off-the-cuff acoustic punk-pop. Ahh yes, for those of us lucky enough to catch it, “Twist My Nuts” was certainly a catchy highlight.

By the time local music scene-maker Billy Ruane materialized with a stack of pizzas and plopped them on the bar cartoonishly crowded with empty beer cans, you began wondering just how many more mourners could fit into the viewing room. It was only 9:30, but already there was barely enough room for all the beer, guitars, gear, and bands talking about their best, and worst, nights on the Abbey’s well-worn stage.

The Sprained Ankles took over after Allen, and the night became a beautifully loud buzz and blur: from the Auto Interiors and Acrobats to Curses and Spitzz. Muck & the Mires gave way to the Coffin Lids and the Konks, who ceded, finally, to Triple Thick.

“I brought along some extra tape because I heard it was gonna be a crazy night,” said Lars-Erik J. Sirén, a well-groomed young man filming the festivities. He wasn’t the only one documenting the last hurrah. “This is the last original, real punk bar you can go to,” lamented Christina Ritchie, 29, of Somerville, as she snapped a friend’s picture. Later in the evening, there were reports -- and evidence -- of bar stools being carted from the premises as keepsakes and jagged chunks of bathroom wall being ripped away and pocketed as souvenirs.

In a far corner behind the bar, a portrait of Elvis Presley hung on the wall, looking regal in his iconic white Vegas-era jumpsuit as he watched over the spectacle. The King was silent but still singing in that picture, as if alive forever and frozen in time, a big aloha necklace draped around his neck. Gone from the terra firma perhaps, but after all these years, far from forgotten in the places that matter.

[Chris Brat & Daniel Brat of the Acrobrats]

[The Sprained Ankles: Ryan Logsdon (guitar), Michael Patterson (drums), Emily Vides (backup vocals)]

[Kurt Konk of the Konks, front left; Coffin Mike of the Coffin Lids, front right)

Photos courtesy of Justin Boucher (to see more of his photos from the Abbey's last night click here).

On the horizon:

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, April 11, at the Pearl Street Night Club, in Northampton.

Cold War Kids, April 11, Pearl Street Night Club, in...

Wait a second. I just realized that... well. You get the point.

Spoke last night with Architecture in Helsinki's Cameron Bird, who said his band has just sent off the final copies of a new disc of remixes (undertaken by acts like New Buffalo and Safety Scissors) to the label. AiH is a traditionalist pop band is a lot of ways, but their music is a popular target for remix fiends: Hot Chip's take on "Do the Whirlwind" is a great piece of laptop art.

In other news, went to the Hold Steady show last night, and I can think of only a few shows in recent memory where the sobriety of a singer was so much in question.

So far I've got:

1) Jack White, at the Opera House, last fall.
2) Ryan Adams, at the Avalon, last summer.
3) Ryan Adams, at the Hampton Beach Casino, last spring.
4) Ryan Adams, at the Iron Horse in Northampton, last spring.

Well, after twenty years of waiting, I finally got to see Randy Newman last night at Berklee. I'm going to save the gushing (OK, just one gush? Man. It was good), and get to something you might actually be interested to reading about/seeing.

A few nights ago, Randy was on the Colbert Report, for a short interview. He also played his song "Political Science". The clip is here. It'll take a few minutes to load, but it's worth it. Newman spends a few minutes deflecting Colbert's good-natured jabs and then gets down to business: A fun, two-minute romp through one of my favorite tracks.

Stay tuned for Joan Anderman's review of the show -- should be running in the Globe in the next couple o' days.

God, I love the Rudds. What other band (Caveat: The Upper Crust) brings such a welcome sense of levity to Boston's rock scene? Anyway, got a press release today from bassist Tony Goddess that reads, in part:

"We brought you the songs of Cheap Trick in '04, and Prince in '05. Now we're putting it all together in '06.

The Rudds' Hall-and-Oates-O-Ween will be on Saturday October 28th, 2006:

9PM - The Silver Lining as The Who
10PM - The World's Greatest Sinners as Sly and the Family Stone
11PM - The Rudds as Hall and Oates
12PM - The Rudds as....themselves!

at TT the Bears (www.ttthebears.com)
Saturday October 28th
9pm / 18+ / Nine Dollars"

As Linda Laban wrote in yesterday's Globe, Be Your Own played a noisy, short set at the Mid East on Saturday night. But I'm going to take exception to the characterization of the band as "uber-focused," mostly because on Saturday night, Be Your Own Pet was anything but focused, and also because the four-piece managed to cover up all traces of its somewhat-considerable talent with, like... noise. Yeah, so Be Your Own Pet is young, and Jemina Pearl is pretty, and energetic. And yeah, there are even a few good pop-hooks here, and some solid song-writing. But there's also a lot of theatrics masquerading as performance art; and a lot of head-shaking and mosh-pit-baiting tremors for the sake of head-shaking and mosh-pit-baiting tremors. Looks, Karen O. rocks, and she's certainly an admirable role model for a young up-and-comer. But the Yeahs channel mood, emotion, and (!!!) socio-political commentary (!!!) through their tunes, while BYOP just channels played-it-before teen angst through the blown-out mouthpiece of a bullhorn. Someone take away the kid's soapbox, yo.

Better? The Black Lips' set. Raucous, tight, and then spilling-out-at-the-edges; fuzzed out, angry, and equal parts Clash and Black Keys. These guys rock.

Sorry, couldn't resist the play on words. Anyway, saw Bob Dylan play in Manchester last night, and the place was absolutely soaked -- it rained through the entire two hour set, at varying degrees of intensity. But what a show. As is often said of Dylan, catching one of his gigs is a bit like shoving quarters in a slot machine: half the time it's amazing, half the time the man seems to be out to totally confound the audience. But last night, we got a speak-sing rap version of "It's Alright, Ma"; a spooky, swaggering take on "Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum"; a soaring rendition of "Tangled up in Blue"; and a sinewy, riff-laden "Highway 61 Revisted". (Alright, Bob, so you forgot a couple verses; you have written roughly 3 million songs. We forgive you.)

Curiously, Dylan didn't touch anything from the new disc. Since "Modern Times" hasn't left my headphones for the past three days, this was a bit disheartening.

On an unrelated note, Beirut pulled off a [expletive] great show at the Mid East Downstairs on Saturday. Lest anyone be turned off by the fact that Zach Condon plays Eastern European Gypsy music, let me say this: The band has a hypeman. How sweet is that?

Hold your breath, folks. Globe reporter (and unabashed Justin Timberlake fan) Meredith Goldstein hopped a train and then a plane last night, just to catch Timberlake perform at a club show in Philly. Here's her report:

High points: Song called “What Goes Around,” which
borrows from “Cry Me A River,” and a funked-up,
‘80s-inspired tune called “Love Stoned” with ending so
good I was inspired to write down the note, “righteous
ending.”

Low points: None. He delivered. And he can play a
guitar and dance at the same time. So there.

What was probably more telling about Timberlake’s new
interests was the music the venue played when he
wasn’t on stage. It’s been said Justin picks those
tunes (I read that ‘Nsync played the Rolling Stones
before shows to please the crew). Thursday’s pre-show
soundtrack included music by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs,
Beck, Black-Eyed-Peas (pre-Fergie), and Modest Mouse.
The song that played when it was all said and done?
“The Scientist” by Coldplay. Deep.

Sorry here, folks, we've been seriously delinquent on posting to the Sound Effects blog (it's a busy time of year, natch) -- but a couple things of note.

First, on July 26, Sound Team (below) -- another heavily-hyped upstart indie group (see CYHSY) -- are in Cambridge. Go.

Second, caught the new Gram Parsons documentary last night. It's called "Fallen Angel," and it's getting released with the Parsons' "Complete Reprise Sessions" (If you own "G.P." and "Grievous Angel" already, you should still check this out. The quality is sharp). The whole thing is meticulously researched, and there is some great material here (although a smattering of hokey effects dulls the edge -- make sure to catch the flames consuming Gram's body. Ouch). The best? The interview with photographer Dominique Tarle, who shot Parsons and the Stones together in France.

The photos are big and expressive and beautiful (see a sample shot below), and director Gandulf Hennig spends a lot of well-used time exploring Keith Richards' influence on Parsons.