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Rocking a late-night set at Oakland’s Fox Theater last Thursday, singer Nate Ruess belted out the crystal-clear vocals patented by the band. Never faltering, he sounded reminiscent of a young, crisper Freddie Mercury, with incredible range and vocal dexterity.

After the mellow, catchy set list of opener Andrew McMahon (whom, coincidentally, Fun. opened for last year before exploding big with “Some Nights”), Fun. took the stage and started strong with fan favorite “Out on the Town.”

Those onstage included guitarist Jack Antonoff, melody magician Andrew Dost on keys and two tour members to help handle drums and back-up guitar. Meshing seamlessly, the group performed perfectly synchronized, and sounded just as they do recorded.

This stop on the tour marked one in a long line of promoting their latest album “Some Nights” released early last year. Although the material has been on the airwaves for a while now, the songs still sounded fresh, and the band looked like they’d never get sick of playing them.

During the show, the constant barrage of one song after another would occasionally stop so that Ruess could banter with the audience. Topics included the band being a fan of East Bay music growing up, once opening for their opener and Antonoff’s severe allergy to cats.

The only thing more captivating than Ruess’ voice was his movement. In perpetual warp-speed, he bounced across the stage like an eccentric general addressing his fanatical army. The band behind him only fueled his energy, tirelessly pumping out the type of upbeat, good-time ballads that one might sing with a group of close friends while returning from a night out at the bars in the band’s native New York City.

This flesh and blood recitation vigorously enhanced most songs, although due to Fun.’s recent experimentation with studio effects on “Some Nights”, the tracks peppered with auto tune sounded canned live.

But overall, the raw energetic style of frontman Ruess was distinctly intimate. The musicians’ comfort playing with one another showed, and the ensemble consumed the stage like a raucous organism — its blood, the power pop melodies coursing through their instruments, and its pulse, their trademark thumping drum rhythm.

Spacing out the more popular singles, the artists gave the impression of playing the songs they wanted to, which were largely an assortment of deep album cuts from “Aim and Ignite” and “Some Nights.” After concluding their line-up, the band was called out one last time to do a show-stopping encore of the song “Some Nights,” which would afterward serve as the anthem ringing through the BART tunnels as audience members returned home.

Seeing Fun. live demonstrated that perhaps the mainstream music industry today is not as far gone and contrived as the cynics claim it to be. It appears that genuine talent still exists and can be highly entertaining live. Although the lyrical subject matter might not be anything high concept or too difficult to chew on, the band name lives up to the exact feeling radiated by their performance: an uncomplicated, straightforward good time, period.

Contact Ryan at rkoehn@dailycal.org.

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Mom & Pop/Courtesy

In other news, Reign of Terror from the aforementioned Sleigh Bells comes out this week. This marks the sophomore release from the heavy-hitting duo. Will they be able to fend off the infamous “Sophomore Slump,” or will they succumb to the stereotype?

Fueled by Ramen/Courtesy

The group known as “fun.” (yes, period included) will also be releasing Some Nights this week. If you haven’t gotten tired of “We are Young” being over-played yet, might be worth checking out, as the band has a sold out show at The Independent in SF on March 28th.

Local Limelight:

Jeff Spirer/Courtesy

This week we take a look at New Diplomat, one of the most promising indie rock/electronica bands to come from SF. The five-man group is known for their energized shows and danceable yet head-bang worthy guitar riffs. Check out the video for their song “Fix This” below:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34-vY-A2zlM&w=420&h=315]

If you liked what you heard, the band will be playing this Thursday at The Rickshaw Stop as one of the many Noise Pop acts.

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“Casa Loco.”

It’s not even grammatically correct, but by the time we realized that the name had already stuck. Besides, we might have still been a little hungover when we actually stumbled across this brilliant idea (a statement that remains to be proven). We etched the name in Sharpie on the coffee table in the living room — the same table that supported three of us during a jubilant round of the Cal drinking song the previous night. And everyone knows that it doesn’t get more permanent than a half-used Sharpie marker.

We’re not Christopher Columbus setting out for uncharted territory here; we’re not the first people to decide our house was so distinguished that it deserved its own moniker. Being the clever English major that I am, I could pull from numerous British novels and dispense a handful of such estates: Jane Austen immortalized Pemberley and Netherfield Park in Pride and Prejudice. Shakespeare’s Macbeth hunkered down at Inverness until he kicked the bucket. Those names sound so prestigious, so grand, so alluring.

And then our house sticks out like some gringo, valley-girl eyesore.

As the name suggests, there’s a certain unique craziness to the entire place. There has to be, what with five of us — four girls and one guy — living in such close quarters. Over the summer, we always had more alcohol than actual food in the refrigerator. We rarely use our front door, choosing instead the lazier option of hopping through the front window. Once, we melted a spatula into a pan of hot oil trying to fry frozen taquitos (okay, that one was all me). PG&E suddenly cut the power on us one day, and we quickly learned that in order to have electricity, you had to, well, pay for it (in our defense, we got two free months of power out of that misstep).

Once summer faded to fall and we crammed our schedules with classes and football games and not studying, the craziness also slowed to a mellower feeling. Where there once was the sound of a thumping bass and a blender bought specifically for margaritas, there’s now the quiet background noise of YouTube videos and friends coming over specifically to cook with (actually, for) us. We finally got a couch — a lumpy monolith that continually falls apart but is so comfortable that it hosts numerous late-nights watching Friends reruns and downing Ben and Jerry’s by the pint.

But the ridiculousness is still there. There’s still the sense that anyone who climbs through the windowsill can let loose, that the more random an idea or remark the better. There’s still a fun, carefree sense of spontaneity.

Besides, there are still the Facebook and Tumblr pages.

Though both began on a whim, they’ve become grand traditions of Casa Loco. The Facebook page was primarily created so that we could tag our house in status updates; the 30-plus fans who liked it were all just signing bonuses. We started the Tumblr account for similarly self-important reasons: We wanted a place to chronicle every juicy/witty/suggestive thing uttered within the confines of Casa Loco. I’ve had numerous friends expound on the ridiculousness of seeing Casa Loco clog their newsfeeds, but I think we revel in it. Besides, we already know for a fact we’re all ridiculous.

We’re being gouged on rent for a kitchen that isn’t even up to code. We’re paying a king’s sum for the location (one block from campus), rather than the place itself (a historic Victorian that slumped into permanent disrepair). We also don’t have heat (or if we do, we have no idea how to turn it on), so we’ll probably all freeze into something resembling Han Solo encased in carbonite.

There’s been tension, of course. We’re all so alike that we’re bound to butt heads. Yet I’m completely head over heels for this place. It’s irresistible and addicting. Even better, I’m in it with my best friends. I love these fools — they’ve become so much my family that I couldn’t wait to return early from winter break (even if it meant going a few days without food in our ever-barren fridge).

I don’t know if this experiment has what it takes to carry over into next year. One of us wants to study abroad thousands of miles away and another hopes to move into her sorority house up on Prospect. We could all very well go our separate ways. The Facebook page will become yet another link in the digital recesses of Zuckerberg’s archive; the Tumblr will be one of those things we peruse when we’re feeling nostalgic.

But damn, this has been one ridiculous ride. And it’s not even half over. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

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