By Paul Robicheau

The group’s arc over three nights celebrating 35 years clearly followed an upward trajectory, displaying moe.’s improvisational prowess and sense of communal fun.

Rob Derhak of moe. at the Wilbur. Photo: Paul Robicheau

It’s difficult enough to maintain a band for 35 years that still sports the same five-man core solidified in the first decade. But the last several years have truly tested the resilience of jam-rockers moe. Bassist/singer Rob Derhak overcame throat cancer. Guitarist Chuck Garvey learned to play and sing again from scratch after a stroke. And Derhak’s family faced personal tragedy in the death of his 25-year-old son. Yet through it all, with some adjustments (pandemic included), moe. kept on touring and recording.

The recording most recently yielded Circle of Giants, introducing keyboardist Nate Wilson from Boston-based Ghosts of Jupiter as a new member, adding to — rather than subtracting from — the ranks. And moe. just rolled through town for what has become the ideal setup for a jam-band, a three-night stand to stretch out with different material each night, something that Phish and Widespread Panic also did locally this year.

Al Schnier of moe. at the Wilbur. Photo: Paul Robicheau

Style-wise, moe. straddles those slightly older peers, balancing the influences of Frank Zappa and Steely Dan (heard in the angular finesse of Garvey’s playing) with rooted jam icons the Grateful Dead and Allman Brothers Band, which are echoed in moe. guitar foil Al Schnier’s high-powered cascades. And, with Wilson’s cushioning keyboards, moe. slipped into a more straightforward classic-rock ensemble sound.

That shift was evident at Thursday’s opening night at the Wilbur, which leaned to albums from the last dozen years of the Buffalo-born band, thematically launching with the pandemic-era “New Hope for the New World” and Circle of Giants tune “Ups and Downs.” In the process, however, the band became mired in mid-tempo territory (compounded by a mix of bright and dim backlighting that often made it tricky for fans to even see the musicians). The first half finally picked up with the riffing nugget “Okayalright,” the more fusion-y “Blue Jeans Pizza” and the psychedelic brooder “Silver Sun.” The Latin-tinged “Bat Country” also jumpstarted the second set with a Santana-esque jam — complete with a “Soul Sacrifice” tease driven by drummer Vinnie Amico and percussionist Jim Loughlin. But song selection and pacing still seemed a tad flat until the oldie “Head” revved up the end of that set. This was likely an opening-night warmup – or maybe it was a curse for the Patriots rival Buffalo Bills cap worn by Schnier, whose team was losing that night.

Chuck Garvey of moe. at the Wilbur. Photo: Paul Robicheau

In contrast, moe.’s Friday return to the Wilbur provided an old-school rebound about as jazzy and proggy as the band gets, starting with the shifty “Jazz Wank” and ebullient crowd favorite “Buster,” before Ghosts of Jupiter’s “Yellow Tigers” (repurposed as the lead track of Circle of Giants) lent a heavy lurching backbone. The band seemed more relaxed and less deliberate in delivery, though the lighting remained annoying at times, especially the lightsaber-like vertical poles scattered across the stage. A monster “Bearsong” kicked off the second set, evoking Primus over a marimba-riddled groove where fans yelled “Woo” to tight stops and starts before a spacy transition, bathed in sprays of green light, arrived. To round out the set, the group kept the pedal on early material with the fast-phrasing flow of “32 Things” over thumbed bass, the stealthy pulse of “Bullet” (band members harmonizing “We are all waiting, for the main event”) and proven finale “Timmy Tucker.” The vocals could have used a boost in the mix, but both guitarists took ripping turns, from Garvey’s gnarly wails to Schnier’s accelerating tendrils.

But moe.’s “residency” reached a rarer level of spontaneity in a Saturday move across town to Somerville’s Arts at the Armory, a 500-capacity space less than half the size of the Wilbur theater (maybe even the smallest room the band has played locally since the Middle East in the mid-’90s). This was a show for true fans, initially billed under the moniker mONKEYS oN eCSTACY and only sold as part of a three-day package (though “moe.” tickets were open to anyone online a few days before Saturday’s show sold out). The sextet’s wrestling-style introductions were more spirited than usual, and setlists onstage only listed one song per set as launchpads — and they were two of the traditionally heaviest excursions in the band’s arsenal.

Derhak’s reverberating bass line signaled “Meat,” flanked by Schnier’s harmonics and Garvey’s skeletal lines until, with a shout of the title word, the group erupted into a beefy drag race. That shortly evolved into noodling space, Loughlin rubbing violin bows against the side of his vibes over Garvey’s glassy chords. Eventually, Schnier’s riffs transitioned into the rocker “Tailspin” and uncorked a screaming solo that set up Derhak’s return to “Meat” to round out the hour-long jaunt.

Nate Wilson of moe. at the Wilbur. Photo: Paul Robicheau

“Recreational Chemistry” oozed to life with its own distinctive bass line and guitar harmonies to launch an even wilder second set. The guitarists spun conversations over Wilson’s keyboards and flute before Schnier turned harsh power chords into an oddly grungy version of “Letter Home,” which in turn shifted into a reggae/ska groove that morphed into infrequent chestnut “Dr. Graffenberg.” Near-nonstop jamming led to another unexpected treat when Schnier glanced at Garvey and coaxed the dual guitar ballast of “Rebubula” (the third showpiece in the group’s repertoire) for a brief ride that peaked with fans shouting the chorus “Find my way back to you!” Another percolating space jam that nodded to the Dead’s “The Other One” and Meddle-era Pink Floyd escalated its way back to “Recreational Chemistry.” Finally, winding down the night’s 90-minute second half, an encore of Traffic’s piano-rooted “Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys” showcased the moody, soulful vocals of Wilson to bring it all back home.

The group’s arc over three nights celebrating 35 years clearly followed an upward trajectory, displaying moe.’s improvisational prowess and sense of communal fun (including a final onstage bout of rubber chicken noises), shared with a fanbase smaller than a few leading jam-bands but no less loyal. Each night before the encore, Schnier read “Al-nouncements,” slips of paper sent his way to recognize birthdays or the numbers of shows seen – into the hundreds for some fans. One at the Wilbur noted Friday was his bachelor party. Schnier piped, “Make good choices.” A Saturday ticket to the Armory would have been one.

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.