POP MUSIC REVIEW : Cruising ‘altitude’ Sans Precision Instruments

The group alt is on a worthwhile mission to help rescue low-decibel pop-rock from the measured and fastidious performance standards of many “unplugged” shows.

The first voyage by this Irish-Australian trio ended successfully Tuesday night at the Coach House in front of a small but appreciative audience.

The group--an informal consortium of friends who have achieved second-, third- or fourth-degree fame from separate past endeavors--finished its touring for “altitude,” an engaging debut album of first-rate pop-rock songs presented with offhanded charm.

The album’s performances are loose, spontaneous and often lighthearted. But partners Andy White, Liam O Maonlai and Tim Finn (whose first initials give alt its name) know the difference between rough and sloppy.

They also know there’s no excuse for slack songwriting, even in an easygoing, offhanded context, and they filled “altitude” with ear-pleasing melodies and harmonies.

Also marked by involving themes and emotional depth, “altitude” occupies an elevated spot on resumes that include O Maonlai’s work as the ever-fervent lead singer and keyboards player of the Dublin-based Hothouse Flowers and Finn’s vocal and writing contributions to the highly regarded Australian pure-pop acts Split Enz (which he founded) and Crowded House (in which he played a brief stint alongside the band’s leader, his younger brother, Neil).

Factoring in White, whose solo recording career has shown Dylan-esque leanings, alt has made an unpretentious, simply executed album in the tradition of Van Morrison’s “His Band & Street Choir” and “Rough Mix,” the 1977 collaboration between the Who’s Pete Townshend and Faces bass player Ronnie Lane.

The live show did the album justice, although a few passages were indulgent or beside-the-point. The lovely, valedictory refrain of “I Decided to Fly” and the yearning one of “Favourite Girl” lost their luster with excessive repetition.

O Maonlai’s opening solo bit found him hollering in Gaelic while walloping a traditional Irish hand drum--which got a show concerned with songwriting and group singing off to a misfiring, incongruous start.

Another solo set piece by O Maonlai during the encore placed him on the sort of idealistic but baldly preachy soapbox he tends to occupy in Hothouse Flowers, and his artless turn on drum kit during “Persuasion,” a nugget from one of Finn’s solo albums, momentarily raised worries early on that alt would prove a rhythmic flop.

Finn soon dispelled those worries: In a nice surprise, he turned out to be a competent and nuanced drummer on songs that required a rhythmic backbone. O Maonlai went back to what he does best, playing the piano in a fluid, gleaming style that helped bring out the mysterious nocturnal mood of “Many’s the Time (In Dublin)” and the exuberant ‘60s pop jangle of “Penelope Tree.”

White strummed a 12-string guitar or plunked out bass lines, and Finn, with his wildly tousled hair, jumped out at one point to shake maracas with the vigor of Leonard Bernstein wielding his conductor’s baton.

Sufficient on the instrumental end, alt’s chief charm was its vocal blend. O Maonlai, the purest singer in the band, and Finn, who has a husky but pliant pop voice, both used lots of falsetto embellishments. They blended nicely with White, who could, when needed, add a reedy croon to his store of deep, deadpan Lou Reed gravel.

The show was a bit overlong as it stretched to three encores--the second involving some playful crowd participation as the band vamped funkily behind a succession of three audience members who got up and earned T-shirts by telling G-rated tales about their love lives.

But overall, the set’s balance and variety kept it flowing. Vigorous romps and low-keyed between-song quips alternated with deeper moods--none deeper than O Maonlai’s gorgeous solo voice-and-piano rendition of a sad, ethereal traditional ballad sung in Gaelic.

“The Refuge Tree” drove home the trio’s spirit of friendship and collaboration, as O Maonlai, White and Finn gathered in a semicircle, strumming guitars and harmonizing wistfully to embody the lyric’s depiction of a comforting hand extended in the face of loneliness.

“We’re not afraid to be vulnerable. We crave exquisite imperfection,” Finn joked at one point, in a wry but accurate appraisal of what alt is about.

The performance proved that good raw material, in the form of well-wrought songs, can shine even when it isn’t etched with the precision tools of perfectionist performance.

*

Second-billed Francis Dunnery brought with him an atypical pedigree for someone engaged in solo-folkie performance: A few years back he wielded a highly amped electric guitar as a member of Robert Plant’s touring band.

Now embarked on a folk-pop solo career, the British singer-songwriter hasn’t completely disengaged from his former self: he would suddenly interrupt a dulcet ballad to blast away like a blues-rocker on his amplified acoustic guitar, complete with power riffs and a hint of feedback screech. The tactic was attention-grabbing once, tiresome when repeated. It would have been best had he saved the demolition derby for his wan, unimaginatively straightforward rendition of Cat Stevens’ “Father and Son.”

Dunnery doesn’t need the gimmicks. A confident stage presence blending brashness with self-deprecation, a sharp guitar style, and a chesty, melodious voice applied to catchy material were his chief assets. Incorporating elements of Billy Bragg (but with a smoother voice), John Wesley Harding (but with less self-pleased cheekiness), he has a solid foundation.