Just right for the Matthews Band

It might sound odd to call a stadium intimate, but that’s what we seem to have with the Home Depot Center. The new soccer facility in Carson has drawn great reviews from aficionados of the game, and on Saturday it got its feet wet as a rock concert setting with a show by the Dave Matthews Band.

With its capacity of 27,000, it’s actually a semi-stadium, about a third the size of the Rose Bowl and the Coliseum, and half that of Dodger Stadium. That gives it a niche all to itself in the localconcert scene, a step between those wide-open spaces and the 18,000-seat arenas, which are starting to seem increasingly cozy.

On Saturday the center showed the virtues of that size -- large enough to allow Matthews’ band to reach full, heroic scale while keeping the players at least visible from the very back row. The sound seemed to lose a little steam way back there, but on the floor closer to the stage it was strong and clear, perhaps gaining some force from the concave canopy that runs around the stadium’s rim.

The field was covered by a vast, spongy blanket and thousands of chairs, but the reserved-seat arrangement seemed irrelevant once the Matthews Band took the stage following an opening set by the Roots. This is the spiritual and commercial leader of rock’s “jam-band” subculture, and the fans quickly filled some of the aisles and packed into the rows of seats. (Crowd control was probably high on the agenda at employee meetings before Matthews’ second scheduled night on Sunday.)

This group was the perfect choice to inaugurate a soccer stadium. As in the game, the six musicians spend a lot of time kicking things around in the middle of the field before finally getting to some real action around the goal. And like soccer, they rouse their followers to profound passions that mystify the uninitiated.

At least the terms of the transaction were clear on Saturday. In exchange for intense loyalty, Matthews offers high standards and a no-nonsense dignity. The rigorous musicianship celebrates discipline, the players’ interplay fosters a sense of community, and the flirtations with improvisation suggest a world of freedom and possibility.

Not that this is the free-flowing, inspired stuff of pure improvisation -- the video camera is right there on the kick-drum pedal as Carter Beauford introduces a key rhythm into the blend, and fans’ hand and body gestures trace every micro-movement of passages that are obviously well learned.

That didn’t diminish the impact of the pinpoint ensemble work. Most songs started with an acoustic guitar figure and a subdued vocal verse or two from the leader, whose grainy, gruff singing has a soul-music edge. His lyrics are questioning and comforting, from love songs both celebrative and conflicted to character studies to wary looks at technology and social regimentation. “Why in the world would I sing if I had it all?” he sang midway through the show, articulating the sense of quest central to his music.

But especially in concert, the DMB is not a lyric-driven experience. It’s one of texture and groove, and while there’s less individual showboating than you might expect, it was the extended ensemble instrumentals that anchored the performance. The distinctive instrumentation of the front line -- Boyd Tinsley’s violin and Leroi Moore’s reeds alongside Matthews’ acoustic guitar -- keeps it rustic, but they also know how to be grand.