By Paul Robicheau

Big Thief is a largely somber folk-rock outfit fronted by introspective singer/songwriter Adrianne Lenker that doesn’t care much about showmanship.

Adrianne Lenker of Big Thief at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

Ten minutes before starting time for the headliner at Allston’s new Roadrunner club, a briskly moving line still snaked down the block and around the corner. But this sold-out crowd of 3,500 wasn’t there for pop princess Olivia Rodrigo or Phish guitarist Trey Anastasio, who’ll soon pack the same venue. This past Wednesday’s attraction was Big Thief, a largely somber folk-rock outfit fronted by introspective singer/songwriter Adrianne Lenker that doesn’t care much about showmanship.

Lenker, fellow guitarist Buck Meek, drummer James Krivchenia, and bassist Max Oleartchik played on a modestly lit stage, instruments and amps simply arranged in a slight arc, more akin to a living-room jam session than to a standing-room rock hall. Band members sometimes turned toward each other more than the crowd, and a few times Lenker or Oleartchik even crouched or sat to face the drum kit.

That close-knit attention suggested how they probably went about recording Big Thief’s new double album Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You at four studios in rustic settings around the country. The band explored its full range and then pushed beyond it to conjure one of this year’s best releases (see Arts Fuse review here ).

Rather than rise to the buzz of anticipation at Roadrunner, the quartet began its 85-minute show with a slow burn of acoustic-based songs. “Change” opened the set as it does the album, with Lenker musing about everything that passes, before she dug into “Dried Roses,” the mood as austere as her closely cropped haircut.

Nonetheless, the electric guitars began to come out, building to an intense trio of mid-set songs. Lenker excavated “Black Diamonds” in a harsher vocal tone than on 2017’s Capacity, even hitting the line “I can never leave him” with a scream. The new “Flowers of Blood” mined its own sonic shroud, with Meek lacing its dark chords with ringing notes while Krivchenia hunched across his drum kit, shifting his cymbal strokes from a loose hi-hat to a smashed ride for heavier dynamics.

Then came the Big Thief showpiece “Not,” where Lenker spirals through attempts at description through negation, only to cap it with an equally furious guitar coda. It’s the band’s closest equivalent to a Crazy Horse number, with Lenker assuming the Neil Young role. Her solo on Wednesday was messy rather than sculpted, as if she were working through emotions without regard to how it came across to the listeners, finally unleashing sheets of high notes as she stepped toward the stage edge and raised her guitar neck in acknowledgment of playing to the crowd. Then, in the band’s typical fashion, the song just stopped when she was done.

Big Thief at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

To a degree, the set tapered down from there, the risk of shuffling songs as Big Thief does from night to night for added spontaneity. The band followed “Not” with the title track of its new album, a likely exhale for a song that spins Kate Bush-like lightness on record yet was delivered live with tougher vocals, guitars, and rhythms, slashing chords and drum fills offset by bass accents. A truer break came when the band stopped for a few minutes to let security assist someone who needed to leave the floor, with Lenker urging fans to stay hydrated, before singing “Sparrow,” a song about Eve, the apple, and “the poison inside her.”

By set closer “Masterpiece,” musical tension dissipated as the band members engaged in playful interplay, giving in to the feel of a house-party jam. And after Lenker began the encore solo with a melancholy new song citing “sadness as a gift,” Big Thief pulled out an upbeat ending with “Spud Infinity,” Lenker’s younger brother Noah emerging to lend the twang of his jaw harp as he does on the new album. “What’s it gonna take,” Lenker sang, “what’s it gonna take, to free the celestial body.” A bunch of fans chimed in on the refrain, and Roadrunner suddenly felt like one big living room.

At the end of the song, the singer called to the crowd. “Take care of each other,” she said, “and that’s it.” She probably meant more than the show.

Paul Robicheau served more than 20 years as contributing editor for music at the Improper Bostonian in addition to writing and photography for the Boston Globe, Rolling Stone, and many other publications. He was also the founding arts editor of Boston Metro.