“Hi, um, I bought the wrong tickets. Can I get a refund?”

“Sorry, honey, absolutely no refunds.”

“I thought they were for Ra Ra Riot.”

The poor girl wasn’t the only one confused. On Thursday night at the State Theatre, I spotted a few hipsters grunting and leaving as the actual performers Railroad Earth came on stage. Even my roommate said he had heard of Railroad Earth through one of his friends who “really liked them. They’re supposed to be like an indie rock band.”

No, this is Railroad Earth, a bluegrass jam group that combines jazz, rock ’n roll and Celtic music, a team of extraordinarily talented musicians who improvise their way through their live shows and a band whose audience seems to meet the following prerequisites: A) must have dreadlocks (abnormally long hair a plus), B) must sport tie-dye t-shirts, C) must be over 60 years old and D) must not be able to dance. I only fulfill requirement D, so I already knew this show wasn’t going to be the best four hours of my life.

The opening act was arguably my favorite part of the show. Ryan Montbleau Band gave a live performance so fun and exciting that, come intermission, I had to buy their latest record, Patience on a Friday. Hoping this was a good sign of what was to come, I sat smug in my seat, behind a man with an Afro and in front of a clearly bored young blonde lady and her sugar daddy. The lights dimmed once again. Some middle-aged-and-above men came out on the stage, picked up their instruments and began to play the first song “Lordy Lordy”.

Sawing away: Tim Carbone of Railroad Earth, who jammed at the State on Thursday.And Lordy Lordy did the crowd go crazy. Hippies ran toward the stage waving their hands uncontrollably in the air. The seat numbers on our tickets faded and tall, big-bodied silhouettes appeared near the stage and blocked the view of the band. The ones that were courteous enough to showcase their horrid dancing moves away from the stage were actually the crazier ones. There were two people — one man, one woman, I think — who were off in their own world near the left end of the stage. They were moving their arms as if they were some foreign gypsies drying clothes by the river. (Think the Jai-ho with arms pointed towards the ground, while trying to play Dance Dance Revolution with your elbows.)

Aside from the strange crowd, the band was decent music-wise. If you aren’t usually into bluegrass, you probably shouldn’t pick up a Railroad Earth album. They’re not exactly the mainstream pop or indie rock type of band that Cornell students seem to love so much. Like I said, most of their crowd was retired folk or “Support the legalization of marijuana” advocates.

But if you do enjoy and can appreciate pure talent, a Railroad concert may have to make way onto your busy schedules. Every member’s undeniably outstanding control of his instrument was absolutely jaw-dropping. Whether it was Tim Carbone’s quick yet graceful handle of his violin, John Skehan’s unique and spectacular mastery of the mandolin or Andy Goessling’s unbelievable command over the guitar, banjo, flute, pennywhistle and saxophone, every member of the band left you stunned and in awe of his skill. Ra Ra Riot may have the appeal and the catchier tunes for the younger crowd, but Railroad Earth shows that the older, the wiser.

The band performed two sets of songs, including “Bread and Water,” a perfect song to square dance to, an instrumental “Dance Around Molly” that had almost everybody up on their feet doing their own versions of a dance and their last song, the fun “Like a Buddha” that provoked clapping, whistling and chanting from the audience throughout the whole performance. The crowd was so pleased with the band’s playing that when the last song came to an end and the musicians took their bows, the fans screamed for more. Those near the stage started stomping the ground, ordering the band to come out again for an encore. One by one, the members of Railroad Earth appeared again and began to perform “Walk Beside Me.”

The gypsies continued their dancing, leaving any sort of inhibitions and letting their souls flow along with the acoustic sounds and the harmonic melodies. The silhouettes began to once again turn into animated shadows, moving from one end of the room to the other, as if some sort of euphonious magic had possessed them. They were leaving their baggage of any worries behind and boarding the train on Railroad Earth. And I was just sitting there, in an empty row of abandoned seats, writing down harsh criticisms of the aliens near me, being cynical, confined, restricted, stoic and angry. I began to realize that I was the crazy one.

And so, as the show came to an end and the last few chords of the acoustic guitar began to play out, I cracked a smile and began to bob my head, having learned a valuable lesson: Music isn’t always meant to be taken with critical analysis. Lyrics are meant to be sung, not to be swung about in a field of catty remarks and elitist journalism. Sometimes, it’s about letting yourself go, allowing the band’s words and notes to take over and permitting everyone else to walk beside you along for the ride. All aboard!