Fields & Planes kicked off its Monday concert at the Big Room Bar by performing a pair of songs live on-air, including a celestial "Motorists in the Sky." Only then could the quartet loosen its belt. "We're not on the radio anymore, so I'm going to pull out all my swear words now," said singer/keyboardist Frances Litterski with a laugh.

Fields & Planes kicked off its Monday concert at the Big Room Bar by performing a pair of songs live on-air, including a celestial "Motorists in the Sky." Only then could the quartet loosen its belt. "We're not on the radio anymore, so I'm going to pull out all my swear words now," said singer/keyboardist Frances Litterski with a laugh.

Though no expletives followed, the band appeared somehow untethered once freed from the airwaves, embracing a more freewheeling spirit that served its music well.

With icy conditions prevailing outdoors, a similar chill occasionally surfaced in the group's songs, which frequently centered on loneliness, confusion and loss. "It seems like nothing really matters anymore," sang guitarist Paul Valdiviez on one number, his tone matching the narrator's apparent detachment. On another song, Litterski fretted about losing focus, even as the music moved with learned precision.

Oftentimes, the sonic backdrops ran counter to these heavier emotions, building around dancing keyboards, hypnotic melodica and airy vocal melodies that suggested a degree of weightlessness. On one tune, Litterski challenged a foe to "rip her to shreds," delivering her words atop keyboard fills that pirouetted and pranced - more "West Side Story" dance-off than knuckle-bruising back-alley rumble.

Elsewhere, the bandmates paid tribute to departed guitarist Aaron Quinn, who recently relocated to New York, premiering a sad, blues-informed number shaped by geographical distance, revisited the past on "Leave Your Keys in the Bedroom," a comparatively rocking turn culled from their 2013 debut, and covered St. Vincent, turning in a scaled-down, intimate take on "Laughing With a Mouth of Blood."

Throughout, the band embraced a serve-the-song mentality, and there was a focus on providing texture and musical depth rather than flaunting developed skills. On one song, for example, drummer Seth Daily refrained from playing for stretches, coloring verses with the odd crash or low, rumbling cymbal that mirrored distant thunder. On another song, Litterski layered on sporadic, chiming keyboard notes that hit like drops falling from a sun-kissed icicle.

Unlike headliner Julien Baker, who described her set as an endless chunk of sad songs, Fields & Planes offered up the occasional beam of light - a radiant energy that filtered through even seemingly devastated turns like "I Think I'll Tell You When the World Ends," which suggested a desire to carry on at least one more day.