THE SHEILA DIVINE

At the Middle East

February 12

Last Friday at the Middle East, the crowd was a mixed medley of palpitant Emerson College groupies, self-described "grown-ups" in wire-rimmed glasses, skeptical AC/DC fans and the occasional art history grad student looking for a Frank Lloyd Wright lecture.

But when The Sheila Divine (not Neil Levine) strutted on stage like Buddy Holly in a three-way mirror and began to play, the whole crowd of anxious modern citizens was alike in amazement; not a one was prepared for the emotional intensity delivered soon thereafter. Goofiness we might have expected from the bespectacled Aaron Perrino, the three-person band's guitarist/lead singer/Max Headroom lookalike. And we might have anticipated a too-jaded-to-smile brand of contemporary bass-playing from bassist Jim Gilbert.

But the music proved to be neither silly nor blase, and it had none of the ironic distance the band's stage presence seemed to portend. What ensued instead was a furious and emotional foray into Perrino's consciousness and into the essence of rock and roll.

With a nod to Radiohead here and to Sunny Day Real Estate there, The Sheila Divine's nine-song set began and ended in sweetness. They started the evening with "The Amendment," a precious ballad that allowed Perrino a warm up before exploding into the kind of fervor needed for the later "Modern Log" and "Opportune Moment." Except for the ballad, the songs were similar in form; they began with a Belle and Sebastian like delicacy and built up to a passionate central moment that belied the simplicity of the band's instruments (drummer Shawn Sears plays only a bass drum, snare, tom, and cymbals). "Modern Log" featured Perrino in a delirious state of glossolalia, faintly reminiscent of Eddie Vedder in the early and earnest "Jeremy" days. "I'm a Believer" began with an innocent guitar/bass duet and ended with each band member convulsing in his own private seizure, screaming, "I'm a believer, I'm a believer." "Hum" ended the set as a mildly regretful meditation on modern music: "In my mouth is a hurricane/I'm bored, I use Novocain.../Hum along and regret it." After a string of mediocre opening acts, one featuring a miffed Charles-in-Charge playing loungey guitar rip-offs, the wild-eyed sincerity of The Sheila Divine was as invigorating as a blast of pure oxygen.

The band got its start at Oneonta State College in upstate New York. Perrino and Sears knew of Gilbert because he made sandwiches at the Student Union, and when the three moved to Boston in 1997, The Sheila Divine was born. ("Sheila" is slang for "boy who is not tough" in Australia.) They were signed by Cherry Disc Records after sneaking into the president's office and putting their two-song demo tape in his deck. Perrino recently quit his job as an office-boy at a real estate agency, and the band's first full-length album, New Parade, will be out this April.

The band has established a sturdy Boston fan base; on Friday, one sweaty devotee professed, "They kick my ass every time." Gilbert even addressed a few audience members by affectionate nicknames--"Beardman" and "That Other Bearded Guy" were both duly acknowledged. If anything, Friday's performance proved that fancy drum kits do not good music make; the heart of rock and roll can be found in a simple trio of a delirious frontman, a competent drummer and a deeply concerned bassist.