I saw a four-hour, five-band rock concert last night at the Barrymore Theatre. Thursday was the headliner, but despite recently coming around to them a bit, I initially decided to give the show a pass. It was a school night, after all, and their primary supporting act was the reprehensible Andrew WK. Then at some point he dropped off the tour and one of my favorite indie rock acts, Piebald, replaced him. So, okay, for $15, now I'm in.

I had never heard of the other openers, so I didn't know what to expect. The Bronx and Murder By Death were advertised, and another band, Head Automatica, had been added, much to my surprise. Being the last addition, they opening the show at about 7:30 with a short, six-song set. Four of the members were dressed in suits, with the drummer in a black t-shirt and the lead singer wearing a 70's-era striped shirt and doing a dead-on impression of Chris Kattan doing Mick Jagger. Their music was sort of like Les Savy Fav by way of the Rapture and any mid-level screamo band. Half the songs I liked, half I didn't.

The Bronx stunk. There's no other way to put it. Some like to push the idea that music composed of non-melodic, repeated chords with unintelligibly screamed vocals is all about "energy," but energy is focused and directed. This set, which really was nine songs that all sounded the same and offered nothing but noise, wasn't energy, it was error. It was the stuff that has to get corrected when energy fucks up. Also, the singer appeared to be obsessed with spring break (more on this later).

It was an odd transition to Murder By Death, whose line-up includes an electric cello-playing girl and a mousey, keyboard-playing boy. They only played about half a dozen songs, but they were generally long ones. I found out later that their most recent album, Who Will Survive, and What Will Be Left of Them?, is a concept album about the death of the Devil in a small, western town. The selections they played were compelling enough to get me to buy the album, although they seemed to have some trouble connecting with the unfamiliar crowd. Their equation is sort of like this: Alkaline Trio x Coheed & Cambria + cello. It's an interesting sound that may or may not be able to go anywhere.

Then it was Piebald's turn, an unlucky circumstance for them. The Thursday fans had already waited through three other bands over the course of about two hours and they were starting to get restless. A couple songs in, frontman Travis Schettel told people to get off their asses, to which he was responded with, "Bring out Thursday!" They played a good selection of tunes, though, and eventually did get most of the crowd into it. "American Hearts" was terrific, as was "Long Nights" and "The Stalker." They also played a couple songs from their upcoming new album, both of which sounded great. This is the third time I've seen them live, and it's probably the best set of the three.

When Thursday came out -- and I should point that, despite having five bands to deal with, the intermissions were all quite short -- it was clear that being on a major label has its advantages. First of all, they had techs to get their instruments ready instead of having to come out in the full house lights themselves. They got a giant backdrop with the bird from the cover of War All the Time on it -- a big plus. And finally, fresh towels all over the stage. Yes, it certainly is the good life.

The show wasn't sold out -- a result of it having been moved from Chicago to Madison in the last few weeks, I guess -- but the several hundred people on hand all seemed to move as one to the stage. For some reason, just as people were getting compressed and active, the ceiling fans directly above us were turned off. And then they dove in "For the Workforce, Drowning." To be honest, I had no idea the Thursday fanbase was so crazed. They seem to fall somewhere between the Weezer fanbase and the Dashboard Confessional fanbase on the scale of manic obsession, and I say that as a crazed Weezer fan. And despite the fact that I didn't really care for their first two albums, their live show won me over. They put together an incredible set, except for the part about how punk everybody else was.

Yes, for some reason, upon thanking the other bands, lead singer Geoff Rickly, said they were all "fucking punk rock." But, you know, having listened to them all, the only band that might legitimately be called "punk" was the Bronx, and they were closer to speed metal, a genre whose relegation to niche status is another rant altogether. Just FYI, it's not necessary to call something "punk" just because you like it.

Rickly said repeated during the set that he was sick, and he kind of looked it. His performance didn't seem to be effected, but he just looked like he wanted to die. It was really kind of amazing to see. Then the guy from the Bronx ran out to the middle of the stage, dropped his pants and showed us how he'd written "SPRING BREAK" on his ass. Nice, idiot.

Thinking about it now, I can't help but compare Thursday to Pearl Jam. They're extremely serious about their subtly political art, they've inspired a rash of copycats and they've taken a while to grow on me.