Mute Math, Eisley rock tabernacle

Concert-goers packed the Tabernacle last Saturday for what promised to be a night of pure, unadulterated alt-rock fun. They were not disappointed.

Eisley, an indie band from Texas consisting of four siblings and a cousin, opened with a solid set and talent to spare. The band looked young but their sound was mature, tightly calibrated with haunting rock melodies and simple but arresting rhythms. The vocals, supplied by sisters Sherri and Stacy DuPree, were particularly stunning-strong and liquid smooth, hitting heartbreakingly high notes that set the group apart from others. Couched in songs tinged with melancholy, their voices soared but never fell into the trap of emo sentimentalism or sugar-sweet pop. Eisley finished strong with enchanting voices lingering in the air.

They received approving applause from the crowd, but it was clear that most people were there for the headliner, as chants of "Mute Math, Mute Math" rippled across the floor during the wait between acts. The New Orleans foursome, with lead singer/keyboardist Paul Meany coolly collected in mohawk, suit and tie and drummer Darren King ready to rock with headphones duct-taped to his head, walked on stage to an explosion of noise. By the time the first chords of their hit rock-anthemic "Typical" were struck, the crowd had erupted with bobbing heads and jumping fans that kept perfect time with Meany's cerulean-clear vocals.

Mute Math ripped through a set that drew mostly from their 2006 self-titled debut album, with selections like the infectious, bass-led "Chaos," aggressive and rhythm-driven "Plan B," jazzy, alt-pop "Stare at the Sun," atmospheric "Control" and cathedral-beautiful "You Are Mine." Exceptions to this were "Clockwork," a gorgeous new song reminiscent of the Police, and "Peculiar People," a funky, reggae-like track from their Reset EP. Creative and experimental, their sound was a fluid blend of rock, electronica, jazz and synth-pop, coupled with poetic and challenging lyrics that always seem to bend heavenward.

On stage, Mute Math rocked out with frenetic energy and obvious love for their work, creating a controlled chaos of rhythm and harmony while being unafraid of drawing out their songs to rocking, jam-session instrumentals. Guitarist Greg Hill's strumming was excellent, bassist Roy Mitchell-Cardenas played with intensity and passion, Meany sang and wielded a keytar in style and King pounded out the drums in blissful frenzy. But this was not a standard, static performance, as the band members jumped all over the stage swapping instruments-Hill beat out melodies on the keyboard, Mitchell-Cardenas pulled out a cello, Meany tapped out beats on the drums, King took his drumsticks to the piano-all while staying in perfect musical sync. Add to this a killer light show, Meany's acrobatic flips over keyboards and amps, and the wildly enthusiastic crowd, which seemed to know every word of every song Mute Math played, including the new one. The excitement reached fever pitch when King ripped apart his drum set, placed the bass in the arms of the crowd, climbed atop and stood to a screaming ovation of cheers.

Atlanta, Mute Math has arrived.