Rock shows aren’t supposed to be intimate; your mom is. In that spirit, high-school-skipping emo-lovers, aloof twentysomethings and everything in between were herded (like the lowing cattle we are) into the Triple Rock September 10. It was my first time at a show in the cities, and I was impressed by the unassuming, cool atmosphere of the Triple Rock.

After a cold opening set by Race for the Title, we were treated to a theatrical and mildly amusing sound check by the Blood Brothers. Not having heard them before, I assumed it was only just that, theatrical. I should’ve remembered my freshman year geometry teacher’s mantra: assuming makes an ass out of you and me.

These guys successfully got, for lack of a better term, the blood flowing. At times annoying but ultimately forgivable, the Blood Brothers scream and prance around on stage like it’s going out of style. Thankfully for them, it’s not.

To call them energetic would be a grave understatement. I myself was led to believe that their lung capacities combined were greater than that of an orca whale. As for the music, one fan said it just wouldn’t be cool to call them hardcore punk. So I won’t. The Blood Brothers did exactly what they were supposed to do, and did it well: they played a great show for their fans and successfully piqued the interest of those unfamiliar (me).

The best thing about Cursive is that the word “irony” isn’t in their vocabulary. Nor do they know the meaning of “affectation.” They are not ashamed to bear the title “emo,” they just let you make your snotty generalizations after the show. Cursive wears the title like a classic, well-fitting suit, unlike some bands who sport it like the new ’80s fashion trend. I was pleased to see that there was no bullshitty rock star “let’s-make-the-fans-wait-cos-we’re-awesome” attitude. Cursive sets up and plays music like they came to do.

Kicking it off with a dressed-up “Sierra,” they powered their way through a strapping set, including “Making Friends and Acquaintances,” “Driftwood,” and “The Martyr.” Cursive’s live performances do not stray much from the precision of their recorded music, they just play it better. Extraneous physical movements were executed appropriately at moments of, well, emotion.

Unlike the Blood Brothers, Cursive’s actions served as complements to the music, not as a vehicle for it. A high point in the show was a cover of a song by another band from Nebraska, Mercy Rule.

The short set might be described as a heavy-hitter. “Red-handed sleight,” “Lament of Pretty Baby,” and “A Gentleman Caller” absolutely brought the house down. I guess it’s not cool here to sing along to the music, but I really couldn’t give a fuck. The force behind these songs was undeniable. Lead singer Tim Kasher isn’t lying to you about his feelings; he’s not acting. He should be described by a word that was once reserved for folk music and is now applicable to rock: honest.

Cellist Gretta Cohn manipulates her instrument to polish the music like one might use a curling iron to start a fire. These guys are here to play rock, and play rock they did, without airs and seemingly without even a consciousness of their own talents.

Cursive has achieved refining catharsis into composed, dignified rock and roll. They’ve simultaneously created and destroyed a new type of rock: this is what emo is supposed to be, but if it is, the rest can’t possibly use the title, too. If you haven’t really understood the whole emo thing and were ready to toss it aside like last week’s European “word-repeated-three-times” neo-revival band, don’t. I think Cursive could show you what emo really is. There, that’s not so bad, is it?