At the Commodore Ballroom on Saturday, July 21

Falsetto vocals, tarted-up melodies, Van Dyke Parks string arrangements, facial hair–what the hell happened to Silverchair?

Well, the lovable grunge moppets grew up. The youngest of Nirvana's musical offspring, the Australian trio's members were only 15 when they crossed the pond(s) with their 1995 debut, Frogstomp. Now at the ripe old median of 27, singer-guitarist Daniel Johns, drummer Ben Gillies, and bassist Chris Joannou have released Young Modern, their first album since 2002's Diorama, itself a more ambitious record than the group's previous outings. It's a pop record decked out in glam-rock trappings, with only a hint of the angst-y aggression that propelled the band to the top of the '90s alt-rock heap.

The disc also marks the Aussies' return to North American stages. While consistently hitting the top of the charts back home, Silverchair has seen its fortunes here be less assured. Johns's reactive arthritis condition and battles with anorexia waylaid touring plans in support of Diorama, and as a result, the disc failed to replicate the success of earlier efforts.

But on Saturday night a full house of Silverchair diehards at the Commodore showed its love. With an eight-year delay since its heroes' last Vancouver stand, the audience arrived with energy waiting to be unleashed–and unleashed it was, from a rousing chant of "Silverchair" before Johns and company walked on-stage to crowd-surfing during the set and a fight in the audience that Johns good-naturedly helped stop.

Fuelled by the faithful's reaction and augmented by one (and sometimes two) keyboard players, Silverchair stomped through its set with more vigour than the baroque intricacies of its recent songs could take. This meant tossing out Young Modern's shiny, orchestral gloss on "Reflections of a Sound" and the countryish arrangement of "Low" for a punchier approach allowing for the tub-thumping drums of Gillies and the heavy-undertow bass of Joannou. That the group's members have been playing together since they were kids was obvious in the easy way they controlled the stage, as well as in Johns's goofy showmanship: he told koala-bear jokes and played guitar with his teeth–three times. At least he didn't pull out a didjeridu and go barefoot.

The 90-minute set tended toward the new material, yet appreciation for Young Modern–isms such as the warbly party freak-out "Strange Behaviour", the rousing mid-period-Kinks pop of "Straight Lines", and the gritty rock of "Mind Reader" was as enthusiastic as that for older tunes such as "The Door", from the second album, Freak Show.

Nothing about the performance showed why this band prompts such loyalty in its fans, however. Silverchair's return to Vancouver was neither spectacular enough to convert nonbelievers nor disappointing enough to turn anyone off. What was obvious, though, was that the group's records are becoming ever more ambitious, layered, and thoughtful, while on-stage it remains a dynamic, powerful rock 'n' roll act. Perhaps that's why none of the new material packed the visceral charge of the encore-closing, grungy "The Lever", from Diorama.

Opening honours went to Murray Atkinson, the platinum-award winner of 2007's CFOX Seeds competition. I caught only "El Camino", the last song, but if that fiery, Nickelback-plated rock anthem is any indication, Atkinson and his rhythm section have a bright future, most likely on the 604 Records label.