The members of Lucius understand how music works, which should be enough, but you know and I know that great bands disappear into the recesses of infinite music queues every hour of every day. Fortunately for Lucius — and for those of us who witnessed their Sunday afternoon set — they also understand how entertainment works. From a pure compositional perspective, the songs of this Brooklyn quintet were astounding. They play pristine pop tunes that exist within some unprecedented hybrid of sighing Americana, soaring Motown, and shellacking post-Arcade Fire percussive fury. Every element was carefully planned, but executed without a care in the world. It’s genius stuff, the kind of music where you think the wild vocal harmonies are the highlight until you think the sly, punchy guitar parts are stealing the show until it hits you that, oh yeah, that five person drum solo was a winner, too. As good as Lucius the band is, though, I don’t know if they would have ever risen above the deafening clatter of infinite bands on the rise (some ancient civilizations used to call it “buzz”) if not for Lucius the gimmick. They have a striking look — two female lead singers who dress identically all the way down to their bobbed haircuts, backed by three males in matching suits and suave hairdos of their own — and the costumes lend Lucius an air of fantasy that they never would have managed in street clothes. -Chris