A few hours spent with the Essex Green’s back catalog, and you get to wondering if they weren’t born a couple generations too late. A number of indie bands may be an exercise in “spot-the-influence,” but with the Green it’s often hard to make up your mind exactly which 60s band they’re aiming for. For example, is the intro of "Snakes in the Grass" more Paul Revere and the Raiders (think "Indian Reservation") or Monkees (think "Last Train to Clarksville")?

Essex Green don’t offer too much clarity to these kinds of questions, but at the 9:30 on Monday night, you could tell that in the 2 albums since their first LP and EP, they’ve embraced a wider variety of classic styles. When we first dug into their music, they were cooing "everything is green" – more mantra than lyric – over light-as-air flute and gently picked acoustic guitar. Last night, they were beefing up the arrangements, playing more like a conventional classicist pop-rock group than a bunch of traveling psych minstrels.

Thankfully, there are still shades of their old selves in their new repertoire. "Rue du Lis," from their latest and best release Cannibal Sea, placed bedroom harmonies in the context of a country-shuffle. One of the finer tunes of the entire night, “Don’t Know Why (You Stay)” walks a fine line between the pop rush of The Cars and the Mamas-and-Papas-on-speed angle The Magic Numbers are currently working.

When the band’s performance came up short on energy, they were usually able to compensate with variety. "This Isn’t Farmlife" dragged after its auspicious, pounding opening, but it was still fun to hear the band’s take on XTC-styled new wave. They tried their hand at rocking out towards the end of the set, too – or at least what counts as rocking out for a band that’s clearly twee at heart.

And speaking of twee, Camera Obscura followed The Essex Green with a warm and pleasant set that showed the band comfortable but not always so engaging. Opening with Phil Spector’s trademark bum bum-bum bum stomp, the band’s intentions were clear from the beginning. Where the great Indie Pop debate has often looked suspiciously like Beatles v. Beach Boys Part II, Camera Obscura are one of a whole host of bands reminding us of Spector’s powerful influence.

So, on the night, there were plenty of pre-recorded strings, that tinny and wobbly 50’s guitar sound, and, most notably, a full arsenal of auxillary percussion. No song went without shakers, maracas, tambourine or handclaps. "Come Back Margaret" rode a "Louie Louie" organ to a calypso beat, but it’s most arresting moment came during the handclap breakdown.

On the surface, Camera Obscura offered plenty of variety, too, flitting between tracks like "Come Back..." to stately waltzes, to more folk-bluesy numbers like "Lemon Juice and Papercuts" that recalled (yes, that’s right) Bonnie Raitt.

But the night continued to lack some energy, or at least that spark to really get things going. It’s almost as though Tracyanne Campbell’s consistently heavy-hearted words can weigh the band down. The title track from their latest album, "Let's Get Out of This Country", came closest to providing that spark, with an infectious, roundabout bass melody. Part of it may just be the rush the crowd gets when it hears a favorite song, but "Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken" – their somewhat notorious response to Lloyd Cole's "Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken?" – finally pushed past mid-tempo, and the band didn’t look back. It may not have been fifth gear, but the jauntier pace served the band – and its wonderful tunes – well. Of the two songs that followed, "If Looks Could Kill" was the closest we may ever get to a twee pop anthem, and "Underachievers Please Try Harder" was solid too, with plenty of delicate jangle to back up Campbell's clever lyrical turns.

They slowed things down for the encore, honoring a crowd request for "Country Mile" and absolutely nailing it. They did it with just plainly strummed guitar, some pedal steel-like effects from guitarist Kenny McKeene, drummer Lee Thomson on maracas and egg shaker, and Campbell’s quaint voice – desperate, then resigned – pleading to an old lover, the crowd, or whomever might be listening. If the show lacked some energy or if the chord progressions started to sound a little too familiar, that’s probably to be expected from Camera Obscura. But thankfully, their set made up for it with a number of charming moments just like this, sure to please old fans and maybe win a few ones in the process.

Essex Green photo from their Myspace page, Camera Obscura photo by Kyle Gustafson.