The early afternoon hours tend to be naturally devoid of can’t-miss acts, which lends itself to shopping around. Thus, I wandered from Drowners (a perfectly competent NYC rock band that seems to have discovered the Strokes secondhand via Tokyo Police Club) to the Internet (in which Syd Tha Kid intones flatly about being unashamed of who you are over boilerplate neosoul) to Foxygen, whom I’ve always admired but never loved. They’ve developed a reputation for turmoil after Sam France melted down on stage at SXSW last year and a blog post from backup singer Elizabeth Fey alleged that relations had chilled between France and co-founder Jonathan Rado. But the band I saw Saturday showed no signs of burnout or intra-band tension. They seemed giddy and alive and ready to comprise the cast of That ’60s Show immediately. They performed their retro ditties with amateurish abandon befitting their youth. “We’re just little kids,” as Rado put it. “We’re not trained adult musicians like Lionel Richie or something.” Demonstrations of that truth included the new lineup of festive backup singers sashaying through their dance moves with slumber party sloppiness and France going shirtless to become a scrawny, clumsy alternate-universe Jim Morrison. Foxygen’s influences mostly predate punk, but this incarnation of the group is as punk as it gets: inspired young people fearlessly imitating their heroes without regard for precision. All it takes is a few decent songs and some balls.