Lou Reed had an unexpected hit in 1992 with a song called "What's Good." The song is built on similes that pair unlikely combinations to describe life without a loved one. The line that always sticks with me is "And life's like bacon and ice cream." Now some of you (freaks) might salivate at the thought, but I agree with Lou on this one, some combinations just don't work.

Opener Al Menne walked onto the stage just after 8pm and sat down on a chair. After picking up the acoustic guitar to his left, he wordlessly drifted into a quiet set of strummed songs filled with open chords often modulated by a capo. Menne's voice was clean with just a hint of a country twang, and a small, interesting break. Maybe the break is a result of Menne's shifting voice (Menne is a trans man whose voice has changed significantly over the last few years), or maybe it was an intentional choice. Either way it was controlled well and added interest and vulnerability. More interest was delivered with the tap of a pedal that added harmonies to Menne's voice. Most of his songs were short and languid. They were simple affairs with verses and choruses played without swing, though a couple ventured into waltz time. I'm lousy at picking out lyrics, but Menne's delivery made it clear each was steeped in emotional distress. The loud and jovial audience in the back of the room didn't match that mood. The bad combination miffed both Menne and the intense huddle of twenty-something fans that pressed to the edge of the stage. So Menne dropped passive aggressive comments about the talkers throughout his set, and skipped one song from the prepared setlist that he suspected couldn't survive the din. In his less-annoyed moments, Menne talked up his merchandise. Particularly a shirt that features drawings of a horse. A horse that was evidently a gay horse. Menne's core fans cheered for the gay horse, gifting Menne a rare smile. Of course that wasn't the vibe for most of the half-hour set. Case in point, Menne introduced the final number with "Thanks for having me. This one's called 'Kill Me'." Uhh? How could this dour set pair with the joyous one that would follow?

Headliner Mates of State have been hibernating for a decade. I can't say why for sure, but kids is my guess – the duo has three of them. But something has urged the band back on the road. And, as we learned later in the set, back into the studio too. While the couple lives in Connecticut today, vocalist/keyboardist Kori Gardner grew up in Kansas, and it's there that she formed the band with drummer/vocalist Jason Hammel in 1997. So, in a way, this show was a homecoming a long time in the making. There was plenty of excitement, with over 200 tickets sold before the doors opened, and the rest gone by the time the band began. About half of the room were friends and fans excited to see the band again. A quarter were too young to have seen the band the last time around and were excited to get their first taste. And the final quarter were Gardner's family. She rolls with a posse. Earlier in the night Menne sniped that there was a family reunion interrupting his set.

Since I am both old and not related to Kori Gardner, that outs me as a long-time fan. I'm sure I saw the band a dozen times both regionally and when I too lived in Connecticut. I wondered what the 2024 version of the band might sound like. Maybe I had expectations. Maybe just hopes. To (finally) get to the point, it turns out the band hasn't skipped a beat. Mysteriously so. Both Gardner and Hammel look just as they did the last time that I saw them, and the band sounded the same. Someone explain that to me.

Like all those past Mates of State performances, Gardner played synthesized bass lines with her left hand while her right bounced around on one of three other keyboards. Maybe they weren't exactly the keyboard sounds I remember (in the old days she used to lug around a vintage organ!) but only they most pedantic would find fault in that. Hammel's drumming was just as inventive. His patterns never lasted too long. His rhythms skittered and skipped enticingly. Both sung. If there is a lead vocalist it was Gardner, but most songs require two vocalists – occasionally singing in unison, often on top of each other, and sometimes singing seeming different songs entirely. There was harmony and blending and chaos. Gardner's voice still carried the nuance it once did, and she was still able to command it into an unexpectedly strong full voice. The duo never sounded thin as everything was stacked on top of everything else. In fact, it's a wonder the band's songs were still identifiable pop. But they were – everything combined to form delightful, well-constructed indie pop songs.

On this tour the band is playing largely the same setlist from night to night – nineteen songs that cover everything from its earliest work to a brand new one titled "Somewhere." Cheers erupted after only one or two bars as the audience recognized each song from its keyboard tone or percussion pattern. Those up front sang along, picking one vocalist or the other to mimic. The entire crowd clapped along without being urged on by the band. Everyone was happy to hear a favorite, though the most fanatical called out for deep cuts that the band admitted it didn't know how to play. But Gardner promised to return soon, and to play "17 Pink Sugar Elephants" for the person who called out for the band's cover of the Vashti Bunyan song. The band did, however, end its two-song encore with a different cover. The the final song of the night Hammel moved his microphone next to Gardner where he stood and sang "These Days" while Gardner's twinkling piano mimicked Jackson Brown's finger-picked guitar lines. As the song hit its climax Hammel returned to his drums and pounded the night's final notes.

For years I've told anyone who would listen that the best thing about a Mates of State show is the way Garner and Hammel play together. What they do is complicated. And there is no place to hide in a two-piece. When the duo plays, they lock eyes a lot, transmitting joy and encouragement and little notes about the song. The combination is perfect. It's like peanut butter and jelly.