Even alone on a stage, lanky young'un Langhorne Slim and his red Guild guitar get a crowd more riled up than a Southern preacher at a revival (and, truth be told, his delivery owes no small debt to such liturgical theatrics). Playing with a group, though, he truly brings down the house: using call-and-response, sing-alongs, and plenty of charming storytelling, Langhorne — who adopted the handle of his hometown in Pennsylvania — makes the audience feel as much a part of the show as he is. Openers Willoughby evoke a gin-in-coffee-cups brasserie situated in a lost tropical city, draping dreamy, broken-hearted songs in jazz-infused percussion, raindrop bass, and soft-focus vocals.