Standing quietly in front of a near-capacity Turner Hall crowd Saturday night, Sub Pop artist Sera Cahoone prepared the crowd for Ben Gibbard and Jay Farrar’s Kerouac-inspired performance.

What began as two of the most predictable guitar progressions known to man followed with some very tuneful, lo-fi melancholy songs, littered with hammer-ons and hammer-offs that complimented the Seattle native’s simple yet gripping introspection.

Her dark jeans and tight flannel didn’t necessarily make her an individual, but her voice certainly did. At thirty-four she has the vivid beauty and quiet charm of a young Joan Baez.

Her music wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but it didn’t have to be – her voice alone, hugged by her acoustic guitar, seemed to instantly hush the crowd filled with sexually-frustrated young adult males with the opening couplet “Slow down, honey, I can’t/Seen this before and I know what’s about to break you.”

She hasn’t put out a record since spring of ’08, but her presence on this tour may be just the kind of exposure she’s needed all along. She left the stage to a crowd of restrained enthusiasm.

Gibbard and Farrar, of Death Cab for Cutie and Son Volt respectively, recorded some Jack Kerouac-inspired material during the fall of 2007, unsure of what to do with it. However, This past October the duo found further inspiration from the 1962 novel Big Sur, releasing a companion album to the documentary One Fast Move Or I’m Gone that set stirring excerpts from the novel to original music.

The album, for all its merits, is quite good and earnest. However, until repeated listening carved the imagery into the listener’s head, the record felt annoyingly understated, as if soloing privileges and the like were disallowed for fear of diverting attention from the documentary.

It’s important, though, to reconsider the album in live performance. Since the collaborative album is so carefully produced, it comes off as dry and tamed, like a housebroken dog.

The difference between the live versions and the album was practically night and day.  All of the rhythmic and visceral Kerouac energy came to life for these songs onstage. The backing band, particularly multi-instrumentalist Mark Spencer (of Son Volt), damn-near stole the show, peppering every song with downright searing pedal-steel, organ and slide guitar solos that refocused the audience’s attention at one point. Collectively the band hit the pocket once they stepped onstage, and never veered away from it.

On the recorded album, much like the performance, there was a definite disparity. The majority of Gibbard’s contributions became surprisingly anthemic Americana road songs, while Farrar’s brooding, back-porch narrative pieces held up just as well. For instance, Gibbard singing “I’m on the California Zephyr/watchin’ America roll by” over two chords proved to be just as energizing as Farrar vocals in “Low Life Kingdom,” sounding like a pissed-off, lonely Jimmie Rodgers.

Kerouac’s text, to many of his purists, is so heartbreakingly profound that even Igor Stravinsky might struggle to do it justice. But, without the usual indie pretension, Gibbard and Farrar pulled off the material with moving candor. Solo rarities like “Couches in Alleys” (Gibbard) and “Voodoo Candle” (Farrar) sparkled with a country sadness only Kerouac himself could describe, and still rest in short-term memory as stand-alone highlights.

Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster and Death Cab bassist Nick Harmer looked as energized as ever, and the crowd responded accordingly to their newfound inspiration. Who would’ve guessed that such literate country-rock could pave the way for extended soloing?