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Here is a article today in the NYT
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Wink, and a Cheeky Nod
New Gaslight Anthem at Webster Hall
Karsten Moran for The New York Times

The Gaslight Anthem, led by Brian Fallon, performing in front of a packed house at Webster Hall. The concert was a release show for the band’s new album, “Handwritten.”
By JON CARAMANICA
Published: July 25, 2012

“Handwritten” is, depending how you look at it, a cheeky title for a band’s major-label debut, or a defensive one. On the one hand it’s a wink: Sure, there’s all this money now, and a big-name producer, but really we’re just the same ol’ joes, right? On the other hand it’s a warning to the loyalists: Hey, we’re still doing things the same way we always have, so quit your griping. One of those bands is having fun, the other is anxious.
ArtsBeat

Some brief indications of which side of that spectrum the Gaslight Anthem was falling on took place early in the band’s album-release show at Webster Hall on Tuesday night. It had just finished playing “Casanova, Baby!” one of the best songs from its 2008 breakthrough album, “The ‘59 Sound” (SideOneDummy), which established this band as romantic outlaws fluent in ’70s rock, punk and Springsteen.

The frontman Brian Fallon began talking about “Handwritten” (Mercury), which was released that day. Typically he enjoys a good back-and-forth with the crowd, which in this band’s case tends to be a little rowdy — maybe three beers into a six-beer night. This night was no different, with people in the audience shouting back at him.

“Hold on, I’m talking,” he said, quite happily, then dipped into something that sounded like an impression of Harvey Fierstein, or one of the women from the “Coffee Talk” sketches on “Saturday Night Live.”

When he finally gained notional control of the room, he talked about checking iTunes earlier that day and seeing that “our dumb little record is No. 1 on the whole thing.” He looked pleased.

Mr. Fallon’s happiness, though, is not what this band’s success depends on. He’s one of the great rock songwriters of recent years, his narrative songs unfolding like ’50s rebel films, or noir novels, or heartbreak poems scrawled out after a night of hard boozing. They have fanciful titles like “I’da Called You Woody, Joe,” “Miles Davis & the Cool” and “We’re Getting a Divorce, You Keep the Diner.”

The songs on “Handwritten” aren’t so detailed. Some, like “Here Comes My Man,” sound like outtakes from old albums. But more often the band sounds streamlined, its guitars full of mechanical punch and not the street-fighting style of before. The album was produced by Brendan O’Brien, who has worked with artists including Pearl Jam, Bruce Springsteen and the Fray, and the results are decidedly not scraped up. A lot of the decisions de-emphasize Mr. Fallon, which is unfortunate, since his literate-greaser sensibility has been one of the band’s hallmarks.

That was a problem too, during this show, which felt grander and tougher to access than the band’s usual performances. There was barely any interplay among band members: Mr. Fallon, Alex Rosamilia on guitar, Alex Levine on bass, Benny Horowitz on drums. (The band was joined on guitar by Ian Perkins, who is Mr. Fallon’s partner in his underwhelming side project, the Horrible Crowes.) Mr. Fallon was operating at maybe half of his angst capacity throughout the night, trading pugnacity for comfort.

To the band’s credit its template is a sturdy, square one. Even some of the weaker songs from “Handwritten” sounded strong when boxed inside it, though others, like “Too Much Blood,” felt like they were collapsing in on the group. For a breather the bar-blues vamping at the beginning of “Angry Johnny and the Radio” was a relief; even the bits of the Dave Matthews Band’s “Crash Into Me” that Mr. Fallon appeared to sprinkle in mid-song didn’t grate.

The most heartening moment of the night came at the beginning of the encore, when Mr. Fallon, alone, covered “Songs for Teenagers,” by the Florida band Fake Problems. It’s just the sort of serrate lyric he’s always specialized in, and he sounded exhausted and wounded. It was a reminder that he can still bleed, that scabs look good on him.