If the Avett Brothers are to be regulars at the Three Rivers Arts Festival, at least they know not to make it a routine event.

They had the same stormy weather on Saturday as their last trip here, but there were plenty of new twists, starting with a spirited crowd that was already packed deep against the main stage at Stanwix Street and Liberty Avenue before they arrived.

The North Carolina trio came out feeding off that energy right away with a version of "Shame" that was more rock 'n' roll train wreck than bluegrass ballad. The Avett Brothers' sound, unique as it is, falls somewhere between those two things, ready to morph back and forth in a flash.

Co-frontman and banjo banger Scott Avett was unrecognizable from the last time, trading in his long-haired hillbilly look for the style of a well-groomed British gentleman in a proper tie, vest and a flat cap. Brother Seth on acoustic guitar, with his tight cropped hair and long beard, still looked like he just walked out of the Civil War.

So, among those new twists ... Scott never seems to know during any given moment whether or not he wants that banjo on or off. His new trick is to slide back behind a drum kit, which he did on "Die, Die, Die" and the new song "Tin Man," presumably to give the Avetts some extra kick. Let's just say he's not going to be confused with Dave Grohl and he tends to make just as much percussive noise with his god-given instrument.

The other new development, at least to Pittsburgh, was the expanded role of the cello, as played by new-ish member Joe Kwon. Rather than merely adding texture, at the end of "Salina," Kwon led the the Avetts and upright bassist Bob Crawford into a gorgeous classical chamber excursion that seemed to stun the crowd.

Along with favorites like "Will You Return" and "Go to Sleep," with their rousing sibling harmonies, and a crazier-than-usual "Denouncing November Blue," the brothers hit the crowd with a couple of new songs, including the folkie "Late in Life" and the excellent "Murdered in the City," on which the brothers sang, "Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name."

The gusty winds and lightning were perfectly timed to "Paranoia in B-Flat Major," but the band didn't flinch, sticking around to finish it out with the raucous "Talk on Indolence."

It all demonstrated that the band's remarkable talent and still-raw enthusiasm for its own songs keeps people coming back in bigger numbers. Here's to booking them again next year.

Alejandro Escovedo

Last night's crowd chose to kick back, a fine way to absorb the treasure and textures of Alejandro Escovedo in a sextet that was capable of everything from prog to punk to mariachi.

Escovedo, a familiar face at the Arts Festival, has a deep past with punk and alt-country roots, and he's not afraid to flash his influences, whether it's Los Lobos, The Clash or even Randy Newman on some of those talk-sing parts. Through it all, though, there's an authenticity to his music, his lyrics and his joyful presence on the stage.

To his left, he had the rock trappings of electric guitar (David Pulkingham) and bass (Josh Gravelin). To his right, he had a mini string section in violinist Susan Voelz and cellist Brian Standefer providing the music with a lot of its color and tension. He turned to them early, letting them slowly build songs like "Put You Down" and "I Was Drunk" into powerful little epics with all strings blazing.

Tomorrow, Escovedo will release "Real Animal," the second album since his hepatitis-C scare, and it does wonders for his set -- adding gritty autobiographical rockers like "Chelsea Hotel '78" (a story of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen) and "Chip 'N' Tony," about his time in the cowpunk band Rank & File. The quasi-title track, "Real as an Animal," is actually a tribute to Iggy Pop for which he managed to rev his band like the Stooges.

They were equally adept with "Juarez" and "Rosalie," delicate Latino tributes to Escovedo's father, and a cover of Mott the Hoople's "I Wish I Was Your Mother" that would have made Ian Hunter cry. The only real misstep was a finale of the Stones' "Beast of Burden" that any old cover band could have done.

Even there, though, Escovedo's joy for the music shone through, and it's a beautiful thing to see in a man we almost lost just a few years ago.