O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : Wood & Smoke Generates Heat : Though still given to intense songs, the band no longer seems to be trying so hard for effect.

The dossier on Wood & Smoke over the past few years went something like this: unusually talented band; tries too hard to say something Meaningful and Important.

Headlining an all-local bill for a full house at Bogart’s on Wednesday night, this unsigned-but-highly-eligible Orange County band continued to cram its set with dark and weighty seriousness. But the sense of labor, calculation and pretension that used to hamper Wood & Smoke had lifted.

The four-man band played with a force and immediacy that cut through all that. With the exception of a few moments in which singer-guitarist Gary Williams strained too hard for effect, Wood & Smoke generated drama that rose naturally from the intensity and conviction of its performance.

The band has turned into mature timber, and it gave off smoldering heat. Williams and Lance Whitson, who share the lead guitar and lead vocal duties about equally, were especially effective as a guitar duo, going on long, expertly crafted excursions that would storm mightily, then pulling back into an interplay of quiet, glistening textures. Drummer Greg Ernst provided crisp dynamics and shifting currents that guided the guitar motion. Along with bassist Brian Way, the newest member, Wood & Smoke was in full control of its ensemble sound, which benefited from a transparent audio mix (three cheers to any sound person who realizes that making the lyrics audible is an absolute necessity for a fully engaging performance).

For Wood & Smoke, Neil Young is clearly the most honored rock prophet. Both singers have that high, shaking quaver in their voices--especially Whitson. Also, Wood & Smoke shares Young’s penchant for turning songs into epics with lyrics set off by long guitar journeys.

But Wood & Smoke’s meandering guitar paths tended to be more labyrinthine and episodic than Young’s, and along the way, Wood & Smoke wove in art-rock strands foreign to ol’ Neil’s folk-and-grunge universe. Some of those delicate, hazy guitar moments evoked “Meddle”-era Pink Floyd. Syd Barret’s manic pop-psychedelia from the very early Floyd turned up as well. One or two heavy-riffing passages recalled Jimi Hendrix. Clearly, Wood & Smoke has its stylistic divining rod pointed in some fruitful directions--although Williams’ occasional forays into Gothic-rock theatricality weren’t among them.

The 70-minute set flowed well, opening with three of those long, slowly unfolding epics, moving into a series of acoustic songs for contrast, then building to a stormy finale. “Like Romans,” which Whitson dedicated to a friend serving in Saudi Arabia, was satisfyingly grim, with its desperate ending plea to “plant the final seed and pray for rain to come.”

With emotional hues that ranged only from grim to angered to anguished, Wood & Smoke still needs to broaden its range. The sardonic tone of “Static” was as close as the band came to humor. It would be good if Wood & Smoke could add one or two simple, bash-it-out, fun-of-rocking numbers to its repertoire--maybe by delving into cover material, if necessary (for starters, try looking in the Iggy Pop-Lou Reed file).

A bit more lyrical pithiness would help too. Overall, the two most effective songs in the show were the encore numbers, “Spinnin’ World” and “Misery,” which were simpler and more direct than most of the other songs. With “Spinnin’ World,” Whitson used plain images to craft an emotionally complex ballad that ranged from acceptance to frustration in the face of a world that defies understanding. And there was no mistaking Williams’ meaning in the pounding finale, “Misery.”

Second-billed Too Many Joes played with not nearly enough gumption. The five-member band got bogged down in fussily crafted mid-tempo numbers that were only modestly melodic and virtually uniform in their wistful tone and mild rhythmic tension. It was dull going until the encore, “Rosanne,” displayed a little heat. Lead singer Dina Douglass had a pleasant enough voice, but it always seemed to be trailing off in a sigh full of gentle rue. Douglass did nothing to command the stage, and a ham-handed sound mix that interred her lyrics made the boredom complete. If a band is going to be terminally melancholy, it should at least do the decent Dylanesque (as in Thomas) thing and not go gently into that good night.

Part of the problem with Too Many Joes seems to be too much influence from 10,000 Maniacs, those precious, stilted darlings of wistful folk-rock. Forget ‘em, young folk-rockers, and go back to the real source: the great Sandy Denny’s flaming, full-blooded performances with Fairport Convention.

David Pedroza, leader of Spanish Fly, caught an unfortunate buzz during the band’s opening set: His microphone kept giving him shocks. It’s hard to sing well under such circumstances, but nasty equipment couldn’t take all the blame for Pedroza’s limitations as a singer. At peak moments, he and his band excelled at cranking out loose, earthy, basic rock that was virtually a tribute to the “Exile on Main Street”-era Rolling Stones (lead guitarist Jim Lacey Baker has Keith Richards’ lean, stuttering style down pat). But to make it all work requires a voice more weighty and confident than Pedroza’s, which lacks muscle, range and body.

Since his days with the Scarecrows (basically the same band as the current Spanish Fly lineup), Pedroza has shown a lot of heart in his songwriting and a good sense of how to construct a catchy, riffy tune. But he needs help--in the form of a charismatic, strong-lunged front man (or maybe a front woman, given Children’s Day chanteuse Kirsten Konte’s strong duet performance with Pedroza at the recent Blow Up magazine anniversary party). Without that, it’s doubtful that Spanish Fly’s Stones takeoff can yield full satisfaction.