Sufjan Stevens, the Entertainer

Don't let anyone tell you Sufjan Stevens didn't dance at tonight's mind-bending show. For that matter, don't let anyone tell you that the National was at capacity. I've been to a lot of sold-out shows there and never has there been that many people in the room.

When I walked up to the wristband guy, he'd winked, leaned down and conspiratorially said, "You're in the minority tonight." What that meant was that a surprisingly high proportion of the audience was underage, necessitating a big black X on both hands. His complaint was that doing so is far more labor-intensive than wrist-banding someone, so the lines were moving more slowly than usual.

Once inside, I made a stop at the bar ("I knew you'd be here," my bartender friend laughed) and settled in at my usual spot. I was almost immediately nudged by a musician friend standing practically next to me. Voila, instant company!

Not long after, a couple positioned themselves in front of me and the back of their heads looked suspiciously familiar; it was a musician couple I know. I couldn't resist giving them a hard time by saying to their backs, "Hey, you're blocking my view! Move!"

Their reactions were priceless before they realized who was speaking to them. But I was definitely noticing a pattern among the audience members: underage or local musicians.

Opening for Sufjan was the piano-playing member of his band, D.M. Stith, who only played four songs. His hushed vocals, even when enhanced by looping, and his guitar playing were often drowned out by the talkative crowd in the back.

My bartender friend had just told me that he'd seen Sufjan at the Black Cat in DC years ago and it was a stripped-down performance with just him and an audience who had talked through the entire show. Sadly, history was repeating itself.

It was a shame because Stith had immediately captured the attention of those not talking with his beautiful voice, evocative songwriting and humor (After mentioning Sufjan, he instructed the audience, "But don't think about him."). Favorite lyric: "I couldn't charm my way back to you."

Before long, it was 8:50 and the man and his large band took the stage. "Hi, I'm Sufjan Stevens" he told the audience unnecessarily before they launched into "Seven Swans" pleasing the devotees no end.

Based on their latest album, The Age of Adz, its electronica-focused sound should have made for one great big dance party, but there was literally no room to clap, much less dance.

Too bad because at one point, Sufjan said, "If you can dance to 7/8, you know the true meaning of love." A friend made the observation, "He loves 7/8." People who discuss time signatures, that's the kind of fans that were there tonight.

A beach ball was sent out into the crowd for "Get Real Get Right" much to the audience's delight. Songs were introduced as "slow jams" and "hippie jams" (that one included a solo on a Casio SK1, truly a magical moment).

Several songs required Sufjan to make a costume change (pants were changed, a lei added, visors appeared). Midway through a song, Sufjan coughed and the musicians froze. He explained that a feather had been haunting him the whole time and he'd finally taken care of it. Explanation done, the song resumed.

The song "Impossible Soul" was introduced as the album's magnum opus, which, at just over 23 minutes, it most certainly is. The crowd stayed with him for the duration and at its conclusion, Sufjan admitted that they don't always make it all the way through.

Tonight's crowd of die hard fans had no problem, although the addition of more beach balls and a lot of confetti shot out over the crowd certainly kept the entertainment factor high.

Also, the huge screen behind the band showed projections of all kinds of eye candy except during the quietest and simplest songs. And that was really the beauty of the set tonight: the new material was bookended by the simpler stuff of his earlier years. A decade's worth of the man's music.

It took about two notes of the moving "Chicago" for the audience to erupt and eventually join in for a group singalong. A five-song encore followed and the huge crowd began to slowly disperse.

Walking out, I overheard a girl say, "I feel like I just had some really good drugs." A musician I know came over and told me, "I can't talk. Give me a minute to put my brains back in my head."

You came to take us
All things go, all things go
To recreate us
All things grow, all things grow.

Sufjan Stevens played Richmond tonight and the people lucky enough to have been there will brag about having seen this show for years to come. And for a certain part of the crowd, I bet a lot of those black X's will be left to fade away rather than be washed off.

But the memories of a show this mind-blowing will last long after the X's are gone.