Sympathy goes to anyone who arrived at this show late and forgot to whittle their elbows down to points in order to carve through the crowd. Next time they're in town, Annuals will likely play the Bowery Ballroom, but those who caught them Wednesday night witnessed a sunshower of a show. Weird, wet, sensual, and with a closeness level just short of socially unacceptable (this last due to frontman Adam Baker's proto-emo stage persona that, more than anything else, provides that burst of cherry flavor to the band's live shows), they gave "intimate" a whole new definition, and it seems unlikely that they'll get a chance to do so again, at least around these parts.

Squeezing the most of a space that couldn't hold them (physically as well as sonically – the six members of the Raleigh, N.C.-based collective practically had to shove each other aside to do their signature instrument switch-ups), Annuals, live, more than vanquish the doubters (assuming there were any) of their skill. These kids are little virtuosos, a fact that can get lost in the big, blowsy, twenty-seven-people-contributed-to-this studio sound of their albums (which isn't surprising, considering the band's own label, Terpsikhore Records, involves the input of every would-be indie rocker in N.C.'s Research Triangle, most of whom are cousins). The guitar work of Kenny Florence (who fronts his own side project, Sunfold, with whom Annuals co-released April's EP Wet Zoo) was particularly jaw-dropping on album standouts "Complete or Completing" and "Mama," and Anna Spence proved the keyboardist's presence among them is anything but a pretty accident, particularly on the last song of the set; girl can play.

Annuals' as-yet-untitled second full-length album, due out in September, provided two songs to their set, and Be He Me contributed its share. The limitations of the live milieu, however, hampered the heavy Brian Wilson-influenced production quality of some of its tracks (although the synthesized violins on "Brother" made a not-unwelcome appearance), while casting more focus on Baker's own voice type (he, Florence and bassist Mike Robinson were pop-punkers on another side of time). It was Baker, a living cipher in a brown Nudie suit, proved Annuals' lightning rod, whether wedging himself in next to Spence's keyboard or screaming and jamming with Florence during the encore, which included the acoustic sweetness of "Sore" from Wet Zoo. Conducting the kids to a shimmering frenzy that ruffled the feathers of even that short girl who couldn't squeeze through the door, he proved Annuals are a miniature phenomenon – contain them if you can.

-Claire Shefchik