Reunion tours are delicate affairs. If your band manages to sort through all the layers of dysfunction that probably caused you to stop wanting to play music together to begin with, and manages to do so without blowing the tour budget on group therapy to get there, you still have to deal with the questions of whether anything you said before is still relevant and if you still have the guts to say it with the same fire. For every Mission of Burma or Wire, whose rebirths have been nothing short of Phoenix-like, there's a Psychedelic Furs-style retread to remind us that sometimes it's best for the dead to just stay dead. And let's not even discuss the "Doors of the Twenty-First Century" or the "Who's Left" debacle that recently rode into town. So one can be excused for approaching Tuesday night's reunion of indie-rock heroes Sebadoh at the 9:30 Club with more than a little trepidation.

Original bandmembers Eric Gaffney, Lou Barlow and Jason Lowenstein have met with some mixed reviews on this tour so far. That, combined with standard reunion-phobic apprehension, just barely excuses the surprisingly modest crowd (though D.C. should still be ashamed they didn't treat Gang of Four to a packed house for their reunion a couple of years back – there was really no excusing that one). But on Tuesday, it became apparent that either previous reports of their new shows being lackluster were greatly exaggerated, or the trio was feeling particularly invigorated by a springtime drive to see the cherry blossoms, because the band didn't disappoint. Far from it. And those jaded few who did find themselves yawning at the band were at least provided the diversion of the Sebadoh Superfan, whose drunken fist-pumping, jumping, and shouting-along were endless entertainment to all except perhaps those immediately adjacent.

Over the course of a career-spanning 90 minute set (which even, surprisingly, hit significant portions of post-Gaffney releases like Bakesale and Harmacy), Sebadoh rocked harder and tighter than maybe even back in their salad days. Barlow in particular seemed loose and happy to be on stage with this group. He joked around with the crowd during the breaks, whether it was about the smell of the stage carpeting (like a YMCA, if you're wondering), or good-naturedly chastising the audience for giving openers Bent Moustache not quite the warm welcome they certainly deserved. At one point, a fan in the front row complained of not being able to hear the vocals (which, to be fair, were a little muddy coming from the primary vocal mic). Barlow launched into a sarcastic explanation of the operations of the PA system and the on-stage monitors before inviting the fan onstage to listen to the vocals via the monitor. On the condition that if he did stay on stage, he had to keep his ear about a foot from the speaker. And so they played the entirety of the next song with the guy laying across the stage. Gaffney, the man whose return really made this a reunion to begin with, was equally at home fronting the band with guitar in hand on his own songs, or pounding away at the drums. And Lowenstein... well, Jason just seemed mildly annoyed, but he does all the angry songs, so that seemed about right.

Of course, what sinks most reunions is a tendency towards excess or polish that wasn't possible for a younger band. More backing musicians or shiny new equipment is often on hand to address rough edges that never really needed smoothing, and all those extras add up to something that falls far short of any previous ragged glory. Sebadoh, on the other hand, came on stage with pretty much the same setup they always did. Barlow even commented on the fact that they had a bunch of ancient gear with them that resulted in random mysterious buzzes and hums every night. But keeping things simple works. Guitars fed back, amps hummed, and by the time they reached the ear-shattering closing of "Gimme Indie Rock," it was almost possible to imagine that it was 1991 all over again.

First photo from the band's website, second photo from Flickr user dirtysoap, used by permission.