Reviewing a band as hip and critically acclaimed as TV on the Radio is a music critic's wet dream. It's a chance to go against the grain and extinguish the conflagration of hype that made these guys so cool and good to begin with.

But sadly, the instant the first notes of "Young Liars" rang out through the Orpheum, every shred of praise ever bestowed on TV on the Radio seemed well-deserved.

But before TV on the Radio is baptized the new sultans of indie rock in acclaim, a word or two must be said about openers Subtle. Unfortunately, I thought I could get away with skipping the opening band to spare my legs some standing time. But during an after party, my heart sank when the first response from five out of five people I asked about the show was, "Yeah, great show, and what did you think about the opening band?"

I realized not mentioning the underdogs that apparently nearly stole the show would be a sin. Hence, I flagged down everyone at the party with the Orpheum's blue flower stamp on their hand and asked them to sum up Subtle in one line. Here are the most articulate responses:

"They're like if Gnarls Barkley and Radiohead shat out a baby, fed it loads of amphetamines and gave it thousands of dollars worth of gear;" "White boy, funk, avant hip-hop;" "The two-pronged real drum and drum machine attack was totally tits;" "Zebrahead… no, wait, the (Red Hot) Chili Peppers… no, wait, actually I don't even know;" "Dude, they were just awesome."

Moral of the story: Never skip the opening band.

But as I said earlier, the headliners were pretty good, too. The first thing that jumps out is TVotR's high-quality frontman, Tunde Adebimpe. He's got an array of moves, including a fierce but understated hip-shake that carries him in rhythm across the stage. But his definitive gesture is to channel the feel of the music through his microphone-less hand in wild, fluid strokes, like a rampant garden hose. I have a suspicion his outlandish techniques can be traced back to the training he's had as an accredited actor, appearing in independent films such as "Jump Tomorrow" and "Exist." Either way, he brings much-needed energy to a genre that usually consists of a frontman with a guitar trying to stand as coolly as possible while hiding behind a head of long shaggy hair.

But Adebimpe wasn't the only performer contributing unique colors to the spectacle aspect of the show. Guitarist David Andrew Sitek (aka the white guy in the band) played and acted like a true musical wizard straight out of "Fantasia." Besides plucking strings in places you wouldn't think possible or practically tap-dancing to hit all the necessary pedals, Sitek had a set of wind chimes precariously hung from the head of his guitar. I was skeptical of this at first, decrying the springtime commodity turned rock 'n' roll instrument as a weak shot at originality. Yet during one of their many songs to descend into electronic, wall-of-sound musical chaos, Sitek leaned the chimes into the microphone and the organic clangs created a soothing contrast to the blitzkrieg of machine-altered notes.

And as for the second guitarist, Kyp Malone, well, he's just authentically weird enough to add art-cred to any band.

When the Radio stormed the stage for the encore, at this point utter gods in the eyes of the adoring Madison fans, they upheld the time-honored tradition of bringing the opening band with them for a collaboration or two.

Before starting the borderline a capella "A Method," Adebimpe told the audience, "sing along if you want, or just sing anything you think fits."

In all the concerts I've been to, I can't remember a line of banter that stood as good a testament to the performer's genuine, bona fide devotion to the music over the fame — only a true musician would think of something like that.

So, touché, TV on the Radio, you've found an ally in this music critic. As for my dream of debunking undeserved hype, perhaps I'll have to wait until the Arctic Monkeys come to town.