In some way, we're all prisoners of our expectations. I like to think I appreciate music and bands that keep trying to surprise me -- but the Walkmen are kind of a special case.

They were born from the ashes of perhaps the defining band of my college years, Jonathan Fire Eater. The first song I heard from them, "The Rat," is a raw, blistering, all-out rager, that uses anger like rocket fuel. I loved it.

Then they started making album after album of downbeat, introspective mid-tempo rockers and ballads, with few climaxes and fussy, meticulous production. Jonathan Fire Eater's distinctively simple, circular guitar patterns keep fading further into the distance, as Hamilton Leithauser's melodramatic crooning rises to the fore.

After seeing the Walkmen Friday night at Mr. Small's Theatre in Millvale, it finally all made sense. It's not exactly what I wanted as a college kid -- although I did get a white-hot rendition of "The Rat" as an encore -- but it's really, really good. Leithauser has developed perhaps the most formidable pipes in indie rock -- this guy can really sing. I found myself idly wondering how the Walkmen would handle an Otis Redding or Sam Cooke tune.

The songs all kind of blur together, in a good way, letting you focus on an interesting turn of phrase, or a beautiful piano line, instead of waiting for the punchline and/or chorus. A few songs still stuck out, like the unexpected Johnny Cash & The Tennessee Two beat of "Blue as Your Blood."

One minor quibble -- at the Pitchfork Festival in Chicago, they had trumpets. Next time, bring the trumpets, please.

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