The late, remedy great Rodney Dangerfield once said, tadalafil “I went to a fight the other night, case and a hockey game broke out.”

The same could be said for what happened at the Sinclair this past Friday. Just swap a fight with a party and some hockey players with a band from New York.

“I went to a party the other night, and a Felice Brothers show broke out.”

Of course, it didn’t really start that way. But by the time the Sinclair’s headliner’s took the stage, it was clear they had come with a mission. And maybe a whiskey or two.

Like a pre-game, that first shot of liquor, or sip of whatever hard stuff the bartender mixed in your sweet tea, Robert Ellis opened the night with a precedent. Ellis introduced himself and guitarist Kelly Doyle in hospitable whispers, smiling broadly to the audience before the two slipped into a bewildering jam. Like the perplexing, murky string build up you’d hear at a Phish show, Ellis and Doyle locked eyes and improvised a mess of sounds that were over almost as quickly as they started. Like true experts, Ellis and Doyle swiftly worked through their jam to find the rhythm they’d set out for, found it, and launched into his cynical “Good Intentions.”

Though his twangy sound set a standard for the night, Ellis’ theme certainly did not match that of of the night’s successors. The singer used the bulk of his set to focus on the more bluesy side of classic country, crooning lyrics about infidelity, regret and a once happy romance turned sour. After a few songs behind his guitar, Ellis took a turn at the organ to sing more melancholy tunes from his 2014 release, The Lights from the Chemical Plant.

Despite his tendency towards darker tones, Ellis was friendly and affectionate throughout his set. And he did give the crowd a few happy melodies. “TV Song” and “Steady As The Rising Sun” were welcomely upbeat, the latter tune Ellis used to voice his thanks to Taylor Goldsmith (of Dawes) in helping him polish. Before Doyle could launch into the song’s slow, hazy calibrations, Ellis turned the crowd straight-faced. “It makes sense that I wrote this love song with another man.”

Before leaving Ellis made sure to give the sold-out show a taste of his past. For his final song the singer chose to reflect on his struggles with religion, offering a sobering take on a childhood in the South with “Sing Along”.

Together Ellis and Doyle swept the crowd with an ominous Houston sound, a melody Doyle colored with a spookily rolling finger-picked drone. As the song grew and unnerved many, Ellis tangled the fear of God with Doyle’s guitar work to give his audience the choice of his boyhood: to burn in Hell or sing along.

Before the spotlights could turn on the night’s headliners, the venue flooded with what seemed like double the crowd. Nantucket dads, Teva-clad UVM types, Lebowski doppelgangers, even the kind of guys you’d find at Tavern in The Square—all made their way to their stage for the big show, but not before stopping at the bar. The audience packed itself into the floor and surrounding balconies with a casual friendliness to mach the mood of the upcoming music. 

The Felice Brothers took to the stage like a hometown bar, smiling and waving to the crowd as if ticket-holders were old friends they spotted at some Southern reunion. Ian Felice took no time getting his audience into a saucy swing, saluting fans before bellowing, “I heard that long factory whistle blow.” Like a true weekend warrior, the guitarist reminded working folks that 9 to 5 was through, to cut a little loose with the carefree words of “Meadow Of A Dream,” a track from 2014’s Favorite Waitress.

The Felice Brothers got their start playing in New York subways, but it’s likely most would guess them to hail from a place far more Southern. Like the down-home roots of Ellis, the Felice brothers reflected Americana in a jumble of folk rock mixed with the kind of music you’d hear at a Tennessee saloon.

And like true blood brothers, each bandmate had a role in the workings of their on-stage family. James Felice belted out the band’s more strenuous lyrics from behind his lacquered accordion. Ian Felice gave the audience a more raspy, Dylanesque tone while strumming along on guitar. Greg Farley played violin animatedly and with an edge of experimentation. Christmas Clapton was the more reserved of the bunch. The bassist didn’t let the audience in on his character until later in the set, jumping on an amp to play the swinging tunes of “Take This Bread.”

From “Frankie’s Gun” to “Whiskey In My Whiskey” to “Cherry Licorice”, the Felice Brothers aimed to please Friday’s crowd with their bigger hits. And please they did. Though it’s hard to tell if they could ever really disappoint such a boozy, revved-up audience. At times it seemed their fans was got lost in the music. As their set went on, showgoers focused on dancing the standard drunken concert boogie while cheering for the band’s more showboaty stage moves, like when Farley used his bow like a conductor’s baton to wave at the crowd before him.

From “Lincoln Continental” to the call and response of “Sail Away Ladies”, and even the more serious tone of “Penn Station”, the Felice Brothers threw a party for their audience from one side of their set to the other. They left the stage that night as hospitably as they entered, with waves and thank you’s, and one last sip of their drinks.