POP MUSIC REVIEW : The Sundays Lack Presence in Roxy Debut

Rarely has a band seemed so unaffected by the hype as the Sundays were at the Roxy on Tuesday.

The English quartet conquered its homeland last year, its brittle, evocative, wispy pop drawing the highest praise from the British rock press and reaching the top of the alternative charts. That pattern is being repeated over here, and the sardined Roxy crowd--equally enthusiastic representatives of the music industry and the general public--rapturously received the band as new heroes.

The band’s response?

Nothing.

Though this first of two nights at the Roxy is certainly an important one for the band’s career (and anticipation was heightened by its postponement from an originally scheduled July date), the Sundays made no concessions to show biz. For all appearances, the group could have been rehearsing in a living room rather than performing a key Tinsletown club.

Even considering the sore throat that slightly hampered singer Harriet Wheeler, she made few overt moves to connect with the audience. Her three male bandmates made none at all. It wasn’t that they were being self-consciously distant, just naturally shy.

On one hand that makes the band immensely likeable, if just for its lack of pretense and the desire to let its music speak for itself. And the music does.

If ever a band had the perfect name, it’s the Sundays. The songs on the recent debut album “Reading, Writing and Arithmetic” conjure just that: an easy afternoon in the countryside, leaves rustling in the breeze, pleasant conversation with friends . . .

As on the album, it was Wheeler’s voice that impressed most at the Roxy, a combination of the baby-doll tones of Altered Images’ Claire Grogan and the gauzy explorations of the Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Fraser.

But save for the extra oomph from Patrick Hannan’s drums and the offering of several new songs (notably the funky, almost aggressive “What Do You Think?”), the performance didn’t add anything to the experience that could be had listening to the album in your own living room. And the show wasn’t much longer than the album, either: Even with the new songs and a reprise of the single “Here’s Where the Story Ends” as the final encore, the set clocked in at barely 50 minutes.

That changes nothing about the attractions of the Sundays’ music or attitude. But if it’s going to claim any more days of the week, the group will have to expand the dynamics of its sounds and its stage presence.

Opening act Yo La Tengo wasn’t much more to look at. The Hoboken, N.J., quartet (the name is Spanish for “I’ve got it”) pretty much kept to the neo-Post-Modern-folk-rocky approach of its recent “Fakebook” album, a pop-obscurities jukebox composed mostly of songs originally done by the likes of Cat Stevens and Peter Stampfel. But the Tengos winningly broke the mold for a rave-up set-closer of Roky Erickson’s Texas acid-rock classic “You’re Gonna Miss Me.” The double bill will play the Backdoor at San Diego State University on Saturday. Yo La Tengo will perform on its own at Rhino Records in Westwood tonight.