>Spotlights cast an eerie blue haze that reached to every seat of the Barrymore Theatre, even searching out to the stars on the ceiling. The crowd anticipates the mood and waits with eyes in far-off stares toward the stage. A clap becomes applause, and Aimee Mann and her band appear from around the sides of the curtains.

“So come let’s go ready or not / ‘cuz there’s a flame I know hotter than hot / and with a fuse that’s so thoroughly shot away” sang Mann from “The Moth,” off her latest album, Lost in Space. The song acted as an appropriate opener for the rest of the sweet serenading that came from Mann during the rest of the show.

Immediately, Mann embraced the audience in her witty and charismatic conversation, making her appear enjoyably grounded, which is a feat many pretentious musicians should take to heart.

Mann focused on songs from her new album, including “Humpty Dumpty,” “Invisible Ink” and “This Is How It Goes.” The prompting of “Invisible Ink” came from a rafter request that Mann eagerly embraced by replying, “You ask for a song, you get it, even if I mess it up.”

Although she did fumble in the first lines of the song, she casually laughed for a moment, started again and left the crowd ecstatically pleased. She continued to fulfill audience requests throughout the remainder of the set.

For the most part, Mann’s music makes the audience sway slowly in their seats, taking in every word of her lyrics, even the high parts that turn to a whisper. Following each sad song, Mann’s charm filled laughter in the theater, as she at one point lightheartedly declared, “Of course it sounds happy, but it is deceptively depressing,” after playing “This Is How It Goes.”

Other songs from Mann’s repertoire included “Red Vines,” “Save Me,” “That’s Just What You Are” and “Wise Up.”

Near the end of the show Mann laughed, “I just want to read a review tomorrow that says ‘Didn’t suck’ or ‘Didn’t suck too bad.'” In the end, Mann gave two encores that certainly didn’t suck, and the audience roared a standing ovation.

The humble intimateness of Mann’s music is akin to being freshly dumped and alone with the car-driving blues as the only remedy plan for an empty night — it’s desperately real.