As a humid haze blanketed the Orpheum stage Friday night, the diverse crowd buzzed with anticipation. Be they brace-faced high schoolers and their moms, middle-aged dudes with ponytails clad in leather, or indie enthusiasts milling around in Chucks and straight-leg jeans, all united as a supportive chorus in response to one hell of a performance from Portland's own, the Decemberists.

At one point, some proclaimed they'd make better dinner guests than others, a portion overpowered the rest with their boisterous "la-di-das" in a friendly singing competition. But at the end of the night, each member of the sold-out crowd filed out of the State Street venue with his or her theatrical rock palette pleasantly satisfied.

Dressed in pristine white, the Shara Worden-fronted project My Brightest Diamond ushered in an air of eerie feeling and helped set the tone for the grab-bag of sounds that was to come throughout the night. Worden, a veteran Illinoisemaker, lured the audience in with her operatic vocals and kept all ears transfixed on her dynamics, especially during a cover of Led Zeppelin's "No Quarter." Beneath the ominous glow of red, the singer infused her lyrics with a trippy, breathy sensation before building up to an empowered, suddenly booming conclusion. The singer would also return to the stage later in the evening to try her hand at a portion of the Decemberists' stage bit, playing the widow to the Decemberists' frontman Colin Meloy's soldier in "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)." While the diamond vocally shined on her own, her contributions were slightly overpowered by the full-bodied background arrangement put forth by the Decemberists. The group came ready to play and wowed the full house of spectators with a large portion of tracks from their latest album The Crane Wife, and a handful of other fan favorites.

Following a grandiose, marching intro, the wistful five-piece outfit took its place on the looming stage (dubbed "the world's weirdest" by Meloy) for what would be a night of hand clapping, high kicking and eventual interpretive death by animal fun. The Decemberists handily proved the glitz and glam of typical rock shows is unnecessary, and all you really need is a pair of good khakis, a bottle of fine wine and a bit of accordion probably doesn't hurt, either.

Armed with an arsenal of part upbeat jig, part melancholy melodies, led by vocalist Colin Meloy — who held the audience's attention with his nasally vocals, lively dancing, dry humor and unwavering modesty (on the group's past Madison gig at the Catacombs during inclement weather: "It's kind of an easy way to get a captive audience if you have a tornado warning.") — the Decemberists' showmanship never ceased. Guitarist Chris Funk provided some comic relief of his own, harkening back to his Wisconsin "renaissance" days, while Jenny Conlee's multi-instrumental additions provided the perfect texture to the tunes.

But while songs from The Crane Wife were well executed and set the tone for the evening — the pulsing sounds of "Perfect Crime No. 2" prompted a raucous dance contest in the front section — nothing got the crowd into the action quite as much as Picaresque favorites "16 Military Wives" and "The Mariner's Revenge."

"16 Military Wives" got the ball rolling, propelling the crowd into a "la-di-da" sing-along and captured the "spirit of Otis Redding with the sweet music of a highest note/lowest note harmony — such sweet music." However, nothing could have rounded out the evening better than "The Mariners Revenge Song." The song brought the Decemberists' theatrics to their peak. Conlee provided a sweet addition with her soft vocals and accordion, while drummer John Moen happily thumped along blind-folded, and Chris Funk played the part of the whale's jaws, directing the audience's blood-curdling screams, lamenting, gnashing teeth for the climax — where the group was so caught up in the moment, they fell to the ground still playing.

One thing's for sure, be it lying on the ground, standing up or caught up in a lively kickline, the Decemberists gave a stage performance not meant to be idly enjoyed but full-body experienced instead.