Brighton Music Hall was filled with an excited buzz- and the WGBN film crew- as chamber pop rockers and Bostonians, seek Friendly People, sale hit the stage. Friendly indeed! The opening number introduced exuberant guitar riffs, instant two part vocal harmony, and a mini-shaker. Friendly People brought immense energy, and singing, “I can’t wait for that feeling again,” the band solidified its’ lyrical landscape- a folksy, open road mood; believing in the possibilities on the horizon. The band shed some of the implied innocence of these lyrics in the middle of their set, introducing an interesting blend of eastern psych sounds from the front man’s acoustic guitar, against west coast, reverb guitar. The variety of rock sounds- snappy dynamic changes, mini guitar jangles, fun vocal play- produced a progressive rock sound. Less a mantra, more a passion plea, the band sang, “Here we are, here we are, isn’t that enough?” each line flitting up and down like gliding birds, catching gusts of wind, before jumping into near… aww fuck it, exciting rock jams! Indeed, there’s only a hint of naivety in Friendly People, mostly because their hard work on stage comes off as nothing but genuine enthusiasm; when they later announced, “we have a lot of work to do”, it came out as pure sincerity: we don’t need optimism, per se, just a genuine appreciation for oxygen in the lungs.

Enter San Fermin, all eight of them! Ellis Ludwig-Leone- band maestro and classically trained Yale music major- outfitted the stage with a sax, trumpet, violin, decadent bass vocals, wonderfully piercing soprano vocals, keyboard, guitar and drums. Thus, the opening number “Renaissance!”, made quite a bit of sense: chamber/baroque indie-pop, with a foundation in classical composition; San Fermin wants to put real beauty back into a musically dull pop world.

And Ludwig-Leone makes a good case for listening; his arrangement skills, evidenced in the swooning, grand builds of each musical movement, and his contemplative songwriting, reveal themselves most prominently in “Sonsick” which strolls in with lead female vocalist Rae Cassidy sharing, “I found me a hopeless case, and resolved to love” before building towards a climatic burst of her flawless soprano range. Closely following Cassidy was a triumphant duet of sax and trumpet- the instrumentalists actually stepped up onto platforms in front of the stage, physically and sonically exploding at the peak of the song’s build. The sax, trumpet and violin would enjoy a few solo tries throughout the performance- unfortunately, these monologues felt too few and way, way too abrupt.

The attraction of an eight-piece band fell short of full utility, and felt more like indie-pop novelty. The sharp, harmonious chamber ooohs and ahhhs from the female vocalists couldn’t match the brilliance exercised in, for example, The Dirty Projector’s “Cannibal Resource”; the orchestral components- sax, trumpet, violin- were too subdued, competing against heavy crashing drums and indie-pops’ favorite- the keyboard. There was even an impromptu electronic drum board, which produced cool boings in the beginning and end of one song- too random an element, in my opinion. There was a small awkwardness, too, in the body language of the musicians onstage: similar to a self-conscious college a cappella group, the members of the band bobbed around to the music, attempting to make the right knee bends and fist pumps at the point of dynamic departure. Perhaps the sound isn’t made for a rock stage such as BMH, because no one can deny the brilliance of San Fermin’s sound after watching them perform at NPR’s Tiny Desk.

Juxtaposing the image of beautiful baritone vocalist, Allen Tate, against the presence of the band’s creator, Ludwig-Leone, revealed this complication. Tate was a Brooklynite to a fault, sporting some kind of intricate floral patterned T, a dark denim button down, flattering skinny jeans, rustic leather boots, and the haircut: you know, close buzz on the sides, a little fluff on top (think Macklemore). But the brain-child funneling the sweet lyrics through Tate (Ludwig-Leone) was a more modest, studied individual, plunking away on the keyboard to the side of the stage. Indeed, the promotional BMH poster has Ludwig-Leone sporting his smart framed glasses and a suit and tie; we know Ludwig-Leone is the mastermind, and something about Tate’s visual distinction made this fact too apparent.

An attempt at a brand new song, “Woman in Red”, turned out to be my least favorite song of the night. Tate sings, “I can show you a good time”, in an up-tempo, further pop-leaning sound; this may be Ludwig-Leone’s desired direction for San Fermin. And while the band does deserve critical acclaim for a series of inspiring musical moments, Ludwig-Leone has a few kinks to work out before the compositional brilliance of his recorded album feels just as rewarding on a rock stage.