J. R. Taylor

Karl Wallinger has brought his modest World Party tour into New York City, trying to win back the U.S. audience that didn't even notice when he almost died of a brain aneurism. I'm even more impressed because-like Wallinger on this tour-I started out in Birmingham, Alabama, and ended up in New York City, and not a day goes by that I don't feel like I'm having a brain aneurism.

Karl's in better shape, too. His skull has seemingly healed nicely after being hacked open about six years ago. He also seems sufficiently reacquainted with his motor skills while taking the stage at Joe's Pub. He's sporting an acoustic guitar, with a violinist and electric guitarist in tow. There is no drummer because Karl's head might explode.

At least Karl's noggin has survived the sight of his audience on this tour. World Party's managed an impressive five albums over two decades, so he still gets a hipster following in the U.K. The band, however, would be pretty much forgotten here if it wasn't for 1987's "Ship Of Fools." That was back when people cared that Karl used to be a member of The Waterboys.

That aneurism derailed Karl's initial strategy to renew his presence in the States. He could've done it, too, since 2000's Dumbing Up was easily the best World Party album ever. It was the kind of cerebral pop (get it?) that we'd expect from someone who'd already had his skull split open.

But momentum was lost, and now Karl's audience is so old that even I'm below tonight's median age. The downside is that the audience has that weird compulsion to see who can clap soonest whenever Karl starts playing a new song. This culminates, naturally, in everyone refusing to applaud when Wallinger plays "Ship of Fools."

Anyway, it's a very impressive show, except for a brief interlude where Karl's on the baby grand. We should all be grateful that we don't attend more concerts like that. Karl sounds great and the songs are good. It's just that the whole thing feels like a sleepover at Aimee Mann's house.

Things recover nicely once Karl returns to guitar. The rest of the evening plays out like a hootenanny, and that gets the crowd in a crazy mood. The old folks at Joe's are hooting and hollering. That's both a pleasant and puzzling end to the performance. At least Karl feels loved, and maybe this is what frat-rock sounded like on the NYU campus back in '88.