Rough, but ready, Lumineers get the Tower stompin'

Sometime last year, as the Lumineers were on their way from being an unknown Coloradan folk-rock band to selling half a million copies of their self-titled debut record, a video started to pick up momentum on YouTube. Shot in November 2010, it shows the core trio - singer Wesley Schultz, cellist Neyla Pekarek, and drummer Jeremiah Fraites - plus a since-departed fourth member, crammed into the corner of someone's living room, the mantelpiece behind them littered with half-empty plastic cups. As "Ho Hey," the band's breakthrough single, kicks into gear, Fraites cautions someone off screen: "Watch those beers. I bet they'll fall."

But for the roomier stage and the capacity crowd, the Lumineers' show at the Tower Theater on Thursday night wasn't so different. They're a quintet now, and they've added an upright piano to their stage setup, but their hour-long set, comprising all of The Lumineers, a couple of unreleased songs, and two covers, still had the shambling quality of a house party, as if once it was over they'd cram their gear into a battered van and spend the night on some kind soul's floor.

The loose-limbed quality of the Lumineers' songs can be deceptive. Time and again, they seemed to stagger to their feet, braced by a sleepy snare beat or a woozy piano riff, only to snap sharply into focus, like the slow-witted Southern lawman who suddenly reveals he's been playing the arrogant out-of-towner for a fool.

The show almost fell apart once, when Schultz and Fraites waded into the audience to sing "Ho Hey." Either they or the crowd - it was hard to tell which, even from a few feet away - lost sync with the rest of the band still playing on stage, producing less the intended collective yawp and more of a free-for-all. But toward the end of their set, they reprised "Ho Hey," with the audience singing backup rather than lead.

The repeat appearance of "Ho Hey" was also a marker of the Lumineers' rapid ascent to headlining status. (As Schultz recalled from the stage, the band was playing Johnny Brenda's nine months ago.) They're still raw, and in some ways unready, for the big stage.

A cover of Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" threw into stark relief the gap between the band's amiable shuffle and the primal stomp that, thus far, they only play at. The crack in Schultz's voice, the way he sidles up to notes as if he's not quite sure about them, still feels affected, signifying passion rather than channeling it.

For the moment, that was enough to bring fans to their feet, but keeping them there may require digging deeper.