Early in didi's Tuesday set at Spacebar, singer/guitarist Meg Zakany paused to address the crowd. "These [songs] bring me right back to the place when it happened, for real," she said.

Early in didi's Tuesday set at Spacebar, singer/guitarist Meg Zakany paused to address the crowd. "These [songs] bring me right back to the place when it happened, for real," she said.

Fittingly, both the lyrics and music matched this raw, exposed feel, the four-piece marrying restless, unsteady words to scraped-knee guitars that wailed, thrashed and bathed in shrieking waves of feedback. "Please let me sleep," Zakany cooed near the close of "Belly," delivering her words amidst a raucous musical backdrop that tossed and turned, unable to settle into anything approaching slumber.

The quartet, which has landed a string of high-profile opening turns in recent months - Saintseneca at the Newport in December, rising Baltimore shoegazers Wildhoney on this night - frequently paired these frayed instrumentals with dreamy, comforting vocals that tended to blanket the fractured landscape like reams of fresh-laid sod. Throughout the performance, three of the four bandmates traded off lead vocals, though each voice served more as a textural element than a driving force. The few snippets of vocals that did rise to the surface, however, suggested some lingering discomfort or discontent ("Doesn't matter how hard you try!" one band member sneered on "Laundry List," a surging number driven by chiming guitar), and songs were often layered with wordless choruses of oohs and ahhs.

Musically, didi appeared to share at least partial DNA with '90s alt-rockers like the Breeders, and some of the best moments emerged in the interplay between the four musicians. At points, one might purposely wander slightly off course, coloring a song with a rumbling drum fill or a snarling guitar riff that scratched across the song's surface, only to quickly return to the fold, like an individual who briefly wandered from a waiting line only to be corralled by his or her mates.

Songs, in turn, rarely walked a straight path. On "Red," tempos varied, and the bandmates traversed both warped, bass-heavy passages and more churlish, guitar-driven sections that mimicked a tantrum. Vocally, however, the tune maintained equilibrium, a straight-lining effect that suggested the only way to deal with life's highs and lows is simply to maintain.