Being faced with perfectly sincere, wholly naive belief is frequently an uncomfortable situation. The natural reaction is to raise your psychic defenses, engaging your sense of personal superiority via sarcasm, detachment, irritation or smug patronization. Once in a great, great while -- for many people, this never happens -- you might decide to join in the abandon; hopefully, only after a dispassionate consideration of the believers' movement. It may sound over the top, but this is the situation facing the audience at a Polyphonic Spree show.

There are a lot of irritatingly clever reviews, at least one of which I've written, that compare the band to a cult. These usually come off as cheap shots prompted by the band's size and Jesus-Christ-Superstar-yardsale wardrobe. Having seen them perform last night, I'll be taking those charges more seriously from now on. There was hugging, and ecstatic Christ poses, and a big banner with "HOPE" written on it, and audience members trying to lay hands on their charismatic leader. I came away with the distinct impression that the story of the Polyphonic Spree could end very, very badly.

Fortunately, the band doesn't ask you to renounce your family or marry a randomly selected audience member. All they're asking at the moment is that you believe that life is great, that there's no reason to be unhappy, and probably that the universe is made out of crystallized rainbows. Something like that -- I'd have to consult the liner notes.

With all that in mind, it was an amazing show. Tim DeLaughter has built a pop orchestra and taught himself to use it well. I won't pretend that 24 members can really be justified sonically -- some lines inevitably blur together. There's also a noticeable mic hum during quiet sections from all those inputs, and I suspect that the percussionist and at least one of the three keyboard players could be dropped without a perceptible difference in the sound. However, having a chorus, harpist, violinist, brass section and what may be the world's only virtuoso theremin player at the ready really does let the band do things that would normally be impossible. The arrangements stray from the album enough to be interesting without being alienating, the pieces flow into each other nicely, and the light show is simple but well-conceived. The uniqueness of the spectacle is enough to justify the ticket price; add in a show as well-executed as this one was and I'd say you should definitely be keeping an eye on their tour dates.

If, that is, you can handle a band employing vocal fills that go "Love, Love, Love". I understand if you can't; I'm not entirely sure that I can, either. I won't lie to you: if you go to a PS show, you will hear an awful lot about how great the sun is, how love is good, and vice versa. There's also a bit about trees (they're in favor of them).

I left the show without the blinding hatred of my fellow man that almost always accompanies watching a rock show in a crowded club; this is a significant achievement for any band. On the other hand, I didn't leave with the wide eyes, bursting heart and manic smile that I got from the PS's psychedelic brothers in arms, The Flaming Lips. I think the Polyphonic Spree are certainly worth your concert dollar; they're probably not worth your belief.