Being a David Byrne fan could easily be a full-time endeavor. He's an artist that has worked in a list of media a lifetime long; really, he's an "artiste" in the most expansive definition of the word. His life is a work of art, his art is a work of life, and his work is a life of art. With that in mind, it's hard to not have grand expectations of him. However, he never disappoints. Even if it's not your cup of tea, his brilliance is obvious.

Ani DiFranco played as the crowd filed in, warming us up despite the cool night air. I could have left after her November 4, 2008 song, its heralding that day of hope, when being an American again became a source of pride. It was that satisfying.

But then there was Byrne. His single stick figure filled the stage, yet didn't dominate it. Everyone was in white, dancers romping in discombobulated harmony, the band, the man... it was more of a cooperative expression than a performance. It was like attending a White Ball where white represents authenticity and simplicity. All the movements were efficient, yet playful.

There is something so special about someone just being himself and finding a medium - or many of them, in this case - in which to express that. It moves beyond whether it is good or bad, and just is. That is so powerful, so inspiring, that it motivates you to find what it is in yourself that is uniquely you. The response from the crowd was encore-level applause right from the beginning.

I would be remiss to not point out that it was a biased crowd. And small, by CMAC standards. Everyone filed under the shell, filling it, but the lawn was sparsely sprinkled. A fan who hopped the fence complained of the high ticket cost, saying that if they were just $10 less a lot of her peers would have been able to afford it.

Byrne's unpretentiousness is so refreshing in these ad-driven times. Watching him reminds you of the child you once were, when you were not concerned with others' perceptions. His movements were both feminine and masculine, and it was catching.

He understands multidimensionality. Like a butterfly effect, it wasn't a concert as much as an experience, one with long-lasting effects that are just beginning to ripple into participants' lives. He reminded me of Tom Robbins' Turn Around Norman, the performance artist who's performance you didn't see as much as experience. He is an outstanding communicator who speaks through the sharing of his experiences.

The only damper was the seeming heavy-handedness of security. Of course people wanted to move down front and dance, and of course some were probably drinking a bit too much, but I didn't see anyone do anything that required being dragged in a chokehold. Keeping the aisles clear seemed their top priority, for safety reasons I presume, but dancing precariously on top of chairs didn't seem a concern.

The crowd worked for that second encore, even though it must have been obvious we weren't leaving. And we worked even harder for that third, but our payoff was tu-tu skirts. I call that a bargain.