By re-embracing musical simplicity on Always the Bridesmaids Vols. I-III, the Decemberists’ enviable defining traits once more come into sharp focus: the loose-limbed rhythm section, the chiming guitars, the hymnal efficiency of the rise-and-fall melodies and Colin Meloy’s surgically precise lyrics. Meloy’s penchant for sharply-drawn narratives also continues — one is “Valerie Plame,” with lyrics in the shape of a fictional love letter to the outed spy (there is also a Barton Hall-tested, arena-worthy, “Hey Jude”-style outro). “Record Year” and “Raincoat Song” mix desolate rainy imagery with pretty acoustic guitars; the former adds a string quartet and a gorgeous descending vocal melody.

An inaugural cry of vitality kicked the Decemberists into gear with a tight, up-tempo cathartic march. Rocking to the Barton Hall rafters, the veteran Portland, Oregon band confirmed their reputation as a jaw-dropping live act while reenforcing their status as “independent super-pop” trailblazers. Busting the Sunday evening stupor, the Decemberists hitched indie rock’s scratchy, emotionally piercing dissatisfaction with a charged army of rich organs and inventive percussion.