By DCist Contributor Salima Appiah-Kubi

After slogging through a sweltering, sweat-drenched day there is certain contentment that comes from a warm Washington night. This good humor was evident Saturday night at the Black Cat, where a sizeable crowd came out for cheerful indie kids, Tilly and the Wall. The Omaha based group was joined by their label mate, David Dondero, and locals, Exit Clov.

The near overwhelming dominance of X marked hands showed the youth of the headliner's fan base, though no scene was in great evidence. All were brothers and sisters though by the time Exit Clov took the stage.

"We just rolled out of bed and came here." said Susan Hsu of Exit Clov. She and twin sister, Emily, have joined The Breeders and Tegan and Sara in the noble tradition of twin frontwomen. The band proceeded to belie Hsu's statement, playing an energetic opening. With harmonies falling somewhere between The Dixie Cups and The Ditty Bops, the Hsu sisters' vocals were tight and sweet. The instumentation was servicable with the only weakness being "minimalist" guitar solos that seemed over before they began.

Duct taped to the front of the band's drum kit was a bumper sticker with the message "A true patriot questions a lying government." On the drum and in the music, Exit Clov's political sentiment was overt -- but only if you looked for it.The band's cotton candy sound gave a sugary glaze to some delightfully subversive lyrics. Their critiques of CIA mind-control ("MK Ultra") and consumerism permeating youth culture ("Band Seeking") were almost Top 40 material due to their very pretty pop sound.It may take a visit or two to Wikipedia but once you get a the references you can appreciate the set on a whole other level.

Arriving to the cheers of several very excited people was David Dondero, here to bring the (emotional) pain. He took the stage alone and with the least possible flourish; just a shade on the wrong side of "charmingly unassuming" and "left my Paxil in the other tour bus." Dondero began to play in a spare, acoustic style that was jarring after Exit Clov's sunny political pop. While his existing fans were rapturously singing along, the remainder of the audience never quite adjusted to the 180 degree change in mood. As a result there was a steady stream of chatter that grated against Dondero's restrained style during the "guy with guitar" portion of his set.

Dondero songs were heavy on metaphor or descriptive narrative, and light on everything else. When solo, his acoustic made enough contribution to keep the the artist from being entirely spoken word -- but little more. Generously, one could sense the melody meandering, but mostly it was lost altogether.

With the focus on the words Dondero was occasionally hindered by his own lyrics. "Rothko Chapel," a song comparing the dark, foreboding structure in Houston with " the heart of a girl I knew..." had the overearnestness of a high school literary magazine. Geographical disaffection was touched on in "South of the South," which went on for longer than it should and held some lines that were downright cringe inducing (such as a perilous rhyme of "swamp turkey" with "swamp turkey jerky").

Adding drums, a bass and at one point a keyboard (care of Tilly's piano man, Kevin White), Dondero's music seemed to improve in proportion to the number of people on stage. A highlight was his anti-war song, "Pre-Invasion Jitters." From a solider's perspective, it was refreshing, not coy or self-righteous. Better at telling others' stories than his own, Dondero faltered, again, when relating more heartbreak. Despite the unvarnished, confessional nature, his music felt distant. And if you can't buy the pain, you won't like the songs. Overall, his performance may have worked for existing fans but did not seem to win over many new ones.

There was a great shift, again, when Tilly and the Wall lined up across the front of the stage, a noisy whirlwind of youthful enthusiasm. Referring to a cheerily decorated stage of foil palm trees and lei-covered mic stands, the band shouted "Tilly and the Wall are getting tropical!" an infectious chant that would have made Gwen Stefani holla back.

Made up of five friends, Tilly and the Wall features vocalists Neely Jenkins and Kianna Alari with Derek Pressnall on guitar/vocals, Nick White on keyboard and Jamie Williams. The group rose from the ashes of several Omaha bands (including another Conor Oberst venture, Park Ave) and formed in 2001. The band's debut album, Wild Like Children, was the first release of Oberst's Team Love label.

Five kinds of adorable, Tilly played a whimsical brand of indie rock. (Like Devendra Banhart, but louder and more coherent or like the Polyphonic Spree, but louder and with a lot fewer people.) Whatever it was, it got the crowd moving — organically or with a little encouragement.

"This is a dance song," said Neely Jenkins, vocalist/occasional bass player. "So you'd better break it down." Naturally the crowd obliged. The band radiates so much joy it would have been hard to refuse. A word must be said about the percussionist; the woman tap dances the beat and does it gracefully. No flop sweat or heavy stomps; her rhythms are as graceful as they are essential. She was aided by her bandmates who added stomps, claps and shakers when the song required. The audience got in on the act too, clapping along at the behest of the band.

Breezing through their set, by the second song of the encore the true believers were jumping around and even the skeptics had gotten their shoulders involved. Before the band got the crowd going crazy with "Shake it Out," Jenkins grabbed her mic and said "This is so fucking fun." And at that moment truer words were never spoken.