Roches Show Originality in Warm Blend of Comical and Bittersweet Elements

Only a thickly encrusted heart could fail to be charmed by the Roches, and only a terminally jaded ear could fail to luxuriate in the craft and quirky originality of the three sisters’ closely woven harmonies.

There weren’t any of those sorts at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano on Tuesday night. The audience was attentive and unstintingly warm, and Maggie, Terre and Suzzy Roche responded with a show that deserved the reception it got.

On a night filled with the group’s customary tongue-in-cheek banter between songs (a good part of it apparently rehearsed but still enjoyable), the only straight line was the praise-filled farewell spoken by Libby McLaren, the keyboardist who was playing her last show with the Roches after touring with them since 1985.

McLaren’s first tour with the trio was the group’s last as a major-label act--Warner Brothers Records dropped them after the uneven “Another World” album--and the sisters’ only record since then has been “No Trespassing,” a hard-to-find EP distributed by Rhino.

While the 110-minute show at the Coach House included most of the Roches’ best older material, it also was a forward-looking performance: Six new, unreleased songs made up a third of the set before encores. Of the six, three were immediately striking, which is not a bad batting average.

“Losing Our Job” was simple and lovely, a country- and gospel-tinged ballad in which a woman tries to comfort her unemployed husband but wonders to herself whether their relationship can last. The song offered an interesting glimpse at how the Roches’ reputation for quirks and cleverness, certainly an engaging attribute, can sometimes prove a hindrance. There were loud guffaws from the audience when Suzzy Roche painted a domestic scene in the opening verse: “I’ll make a special dinner tonight; Don’t worry, darling, it’ll be all right,” a thought that did sound kind of funny coming from an urbane, wisecracking New Yorker whose bohemian look included a spot of glitter under her left eye.

But the Roches didn’t fail to get their point across: fervent, plaintive singing quickly registered the serious inner struggle taking place in the song. Also on the serious side was “Nocturne,” a dry-eyed, closely observed account of a sexual coupling that sparks no emotional connection:

He hurries to be free of my feelings

We wear our words until he finally dresses

Looking for his shoes, he is a shadow in my doorway.

The Roches haven’t lost their sense of humor, though. “Big Nothing,” the new song that started the show, was a tale of romantic disappointment full of the group’s trademark blend of the comical and the bittersweet. “I never knew how big nothing could be,” sang Suzzy, the most talkative and overtly comical Roche. An oldie, “The Troubles,” got a fresh, funny treatment featuring a long ending in which the three voices spoofed the druggy, hypnotic interplay of a ‘60s-era psychedelic rock “jam.”

For all their between-songs shtick, a sort of folkie-sophisticate vaudeville of broad comic gestures and sister-to-sister put-downs, the Roches come off as authentic. Suzzy’s hammy stage persona seemed like a natural extension of her tart, humor-laden voice. Maggie, the oldest of the three, was self-contained, standing aside from the banter and performing with a faraway look on her face that suggested reverie rather than detachment as she anchored the group with low harmonies. Maggie’s stance made it all the funnier when she cut loose and did the frug during “The Angry, Angry Man,” a chunky rocker that sounds like the Roches’ tribute to T-Rex. Terre, who picked out light electric guitar leads and sang in a soprano voice that was alternately soaring and fragile, is the middle sister, an on-stage composite of Suzzy’s cutup instinct and Maggie’s reserve.

Not everything the Roches did was natural and becoming. Their use of canned, synthesized rhythm tracks on a number of songs was obtrusive and ill-advised. For a group that can shine with offbeat, richly original vocal arrangements, singing to a tape machine is an unnecessary limitation. Surely the Roches are inventive enough to find a more appealing way to pull off their rock-oriented songs. What’s more, the tapes weren’t just canned but often badly canned. The prerecorded accompaniment to “Another World” sounded as tinny as a cheap transistor radio.

The rich vocal harmonies made it possible to overlook some of the prerecorded tackiness. But the best moments were among the most basic, delivered a cappella, or with light guitar or keyboard accompaniment. Among the highlights were “Hammond Song,” with its vivid, almost tangible aching over a parent’s steely disapproval, and “One Season,” in which chromatic passages sounded a wry, self-mocking counterpoint to Maggie’s melancholy tale of romantic wounds.

It isn’t easy to crack a joke while confessing unhappiness, and it isn’t easy to be fetchingly quirky rather than annoyingly cute. The Roches made it look natural and sound glorious.