CMW Live: Mute Math OPERA HOUSE - MAR. 7 Mute Math has neither a muted enthusiasm for what they do, nor do they offer a calculated concert performance as their name might suggest. Their show at the majestic Opera House on Wednesday demonstrated a fervency that is rarely seen among indie or non-indie performances alike. Before the band got on stage, a bevy of thin florescent lights were unveiled as the drum kit was positioned alongside a Rhodes piano, next to the front row. While this distracts me from the curiously confident lean of the fire-engine red Keytar and the space age-like Atari that were positioned quietly against the keyboards stage left, a group of young Mute Math fans begging for my attention distracted me more. I looked away from my view from the balcony as they interrogated me about my level of enthusiasm for the show. I grinned happily at their energy, and asked them to get back to me in an hour. The drummer walked coolly onto the stage, casually duct taping his headphones around his face. Enter Mute Math stage right. If ever before a drummer needed to tape his headphones on, it was Darren King. This is a man who knows how to work his sticks all over his drums, literally. King rat-a-tat-tatted his way through every song. Anyone still in the boom-ga/boom-ga stages of learning needs to watch this guy. He was tight, energetic, enthusiastic and damn impressive! Rising from his seat, he rocked his set atop the kick drum, and whatever solid form was within reach, he grabbed and made a beat. That's a drummer! Paul Meany has grand presence ladies and gentlemen, but not the irritating ego of a self-important rock star. His performance was theatrical and sincere, and imposed a sense of respect that I did not necessarily have when I had first heard of the band. During "Break the Same," Meany threw himself into the song with the actions of a madman possessed by his music. Meany was consumed by his performance and managed to take most of the audience with him. With Greg Hill and Roy Mitchell-Cardenas handling their guitar and upright bass, respectively, they supported their bandmates with a modest strength that peaked and withdrew when needed. When the concert was over I stood there, pensive, and asked myself the last time a band evoked loud applause mid-song. I can't remember one, actually. Mute Math demonstrated an energy I didn't realize was missing from the concert experience. Check these dudes out. You'll hear what I'm saying.