Ben Folds Five Blends Gloss, Quirkiness

In spite of the enduring popularity of such piano-pop icons as Elton John, you wouldn’t expect a group like Ben Folds Five, a piano trio hailing from the indie-rock hotbed of Chapel Hill, N.C., to hold the potential for similar widespread appeal. But judging from how enthusiastically a mainstream Redondo Beach audience responded to the band’s performance on Saturday at Club Caprice, singer-pianist Ben Folds just might become this generation’s Billy Joel.

The material was quirkier than your average middle-of-the-road pop, blending Folds’ melodic keyboard stylings and the players’ sweet harmonies with bebop jazz licks, surf-rock riffing and punk flourishes.

Their fusion of glossy pop and quirky personality recalled the early-’70s work of Todd Rundgren throughout the dynamic 90-minute set, which featured songs from the group’s major-label debut, “Whatever and Ever Amen,” plus older tunes and a version of the Flaming Lips’ “She Don’t Use Jelly.”

Folds, bassist Robert Sledge and drummer Darren Jessee nimbly leapfrogged among styles, and the show’s momentum snowballed with Folds’ increasingly animated antics. When the set opened with the Beach Boys-esque lament “Missing the War,” he was seated calmly at the piano, but soon he was pounding the keyboard with his fists and piano stool, bouncing up and down, standing at the keys, even clambering over the instrument at one point.

The set included character portraits and seemingly confessional numbers that were by turns wistful, bitter, sardonic and poignant.

It was tough to settle into an emotional groove, as these moods rapidly succeeded one another at times. The evocative single “Brick,” about a couple’s disintegration in the aftermath of an abortion, was followed by the raging executive kiss-off “One Angry Dwarf and Two Hundred Solemn Faces.” Scorn would be heaped on everyone from former lovers to no-longer-hipsters, and then the group would offer a regretful ballad about relationship acrimony. Still, by focusing on the situation in each vignette, rather than specific emotions, the musicians left room for listeners to fill in their own feelings.

Folds also added a little keyboard drama to a few songs during the set by opening act Travis, a Scottish quartet that offered 40 minutes of glam-tinged rockers and droning ballads from its debut album, “Good Feeling.” Though generally well-crafted, the best numbers revealed a serious Oasis jones more than anything else, and the band’s live performance was less engaging than the album.