Last Thursday I was perplexed. I had just been informed that afternoon a concert designated as “all ages” had a 10 p.m. curfew. I was worried that my fantasized two nights of “indie rock bliss” were foiled. Both acts, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists and The Shins had two opening acts and doors opened at six, logistically stunting any inspirationally epic performance.

After a hasty dinner I headed off to the Triple Rock Social Club to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. I was nervous and largely skeptical that my two nights would turn out worthwhile considering that my snobbish normative stipulated that any concert, no matter how illegitimate, has to start after ten.

Walking into the Triple Rock, however, I was reassured. The simple throttle of live music brought back my previous idealism, which had been delightfully maturing in my head for over a month.

Openers Sea Ray played cathartic ballads in their NYC fop haircuts and dandy clothes. The Cities’ own the Monarques, the second band, played an overconfident brand of loud and jangled rock. Both opening acts had plenty of artifice, yet unfortunately lacked substantial artfulness. By the time Ted Leo took the stage with a drummer and a bassist as the accompanying Pharmacists all doubt was quelled. Opening with the solo number “The Sword and the Stone” and a blaringly frenetic manifestation of “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?” Ted Leo had already won the stage.

He fired through songs exclusively off the recent Hearts of Oak and his previous album, The Tyranny of Distance. Ted Leo has a gift that most bands lack, which is the ability to take the sound of a song and uniquely morph it from the album to the live performance. There was a raw grittiness to his live set that one cannot find on any of his albums, and his soft, rangy voice stretched itself to the bare end. In short, Ted Leo was more than just a joy to watch as the rest of the Pharmacists dutifully stepped to the side and let him steal the show. He left a rather packed crowd anxious for another hour when Cinderella’s coach turned into a pumpkin.

Unfortunately, on Friday my doubts returned. I wondered how The Shins could muster a live show that could somehow eclipse Ted Leo, and in my mind they couldn’t. Fundamentally opposites, The Shins are more crafted for studio recording with complex layering than a rollicking, garage-rock live act a la Ted Leo and the Pharmacists.

Upon arriving at First Avenue, there was a feeling that half of Macalester was in attendance and it might as well just played in the Campus Center. After suffering through loud but slumberous opening acts, it was nearly assured that the Shins would be good.

Once taking the stage they played well but the band seemed disconnected. Maybe it was the drummer Jesse Sandoval’s apparent illness, and keyboardist Marty Crandall’s uncanny resemblance to SNL’s Chris Parnell or the fact that everyone seemed to be having a good time except for lead man James Mercer. Mercer wavered at times between what looked like an unanimated focus to ennui; physically cast almost off to the audience’s right, Mercer could not help but look isolated and hermetic.

It seemed more than obvious that the nervous energy on the recent Chutes Too Narrow was not simply a fluke. Yet, The Shins easily rolled through songs new and old winning over the crowd just with their mere presence. Undoubtedly and oddly enough it was Mercer who shined best on older tracks like “When I Goose Step,” “Caring Is Creepy,” “Know Your Onion” and “New Slang.”

After the show, my idealized journey ended a little short. I left First Avenue feeling that it might be the next worst place to see The Shins after the Target Center. There was too much room for the Shins’ chambered music to fill and it seemed perpetually at conflict with the setting. The Shins, in fact, would best be seen in the more chummy and evocative Triple Rock. For ticket demand, First Avenue seemed most favorable.

In the end, it seemed appropriate that Ted Leo would be inspirational and The Shins would be meditative, and from that standpoint I feel pleased with how my two nights of playing Cinderella to Minneapolis’ curfew transpired. Regrettably, it looks as if there won’t be two shows of such merit to come our way in the next few months.