The Push Stars concert in Copley Square was seriously excellent. Let's just start with the weather: bright sunshine, 70°, light breeze. (All week, my mother worried that it would rain on my Push Stars show. I understand her concern -- remember what happened with the Globe Jazz & Blues Festival -- but I think she was more nervous than I was, and she's in DC. Remind me not to plan an outdoor wedding.)

I was more concerned about heat and humidity, really. Hot, humid weather sucks the life out of me. 70° and sunny is perfect. I wound up all sweaty anyway, but it was self-induced (dancing) and therefore okay.

I'm used to big gatherings in the city, but even I was surprised by the crowds. The entire field in Copley Square was full; people were massed along the edges of the square and lined up on the walkways. Copley Square can hold about 4,000 people. This crowd had to be close.

The square was already jammed by the time I arrived. I found an unoccupied space to sit along the concrete curb surrounding the field, surprisingly close to the front. As soon as I sat down, I realized why it was unoccupied: the sun bounced right off the mirrored Hancock building into my eyes. But I didn't plan on sitting for long, so I kept my (very dark) shades on and looked away from the giant blinding reflection. If I kept my head in just the right position, the sun glare was minimized, but the slightest move would fry my retinas.

I tried to look relaxed and nonchalant while keeping absolutely motionless. I must have looked like I was on pause. My inner bitch supplied the snide comments: "Heh. Glad I moved out of that spot. Did she really think she'd find an open spot along the edge of the field right up front? She probably pulls over at valet parking spots."

I have never been so relieved to see a band take the stage. It meant I could move. They slammed right in to the first song without preamble, and a minor shock wave of messy, bass-heavy noise washed over the crowd. I had no idea what they were playing behind the distortion. First blinded, then deafened.

But one thing I learned from hanging out with a professional soundman is that no band sounds right at first. No matter how clean the sound check, the first song will be a train wreck. All you can do is hope that the soundman works fast and that the band doesn't open with anything you particularly like.

The soundman got things sorted out in the middle of the third song, but I had already vacated the Seat of Eternal Glare and moved up front. There was an odd, unpopulated buffer zone of about twenty feet in front of the stage. We all hovered on the edges of the zone, looking uneasily at each other and wondering why no one was getting closer to the stage. It reminded me of those electronic fences for dogs: I kept thinking I'd get zapped if I stepped over the line. Eventually it occurred to me that we'd felt collectively restrained from standing in the zone because we would block the view of the people sitting on the field. Then it collectively occurred to us that this was not our problem, and we all moved up.

Most of the others dancing up front were sleek blond college types who looked like they'd just come from a J. Crew photo shoot. Nice kids, friendly smiles. The only spooky thing about them was that none of them seemed to sweat. This is such a neat trick. It's right up there with levitation on the improbability scale, as far as I'm concerned. At the end of the show, when my shirt was plastered to my back and my hair hanging in wet strings, they still looked pristine, nary a hair out of place. Amazing.

Then again, I dance like a hippie on crack, which must have some aerobic and therefore sweat-producing qualities. I stopped worrying long ago about what I look like when I dance; if I allowed myself to think about it, I'd never dance again, and the undanced life is not worth living.

The Push Stars are terrific live. They clearly like each other and love what they do, and it comes across in their high energy and confidence on stage. Chris Trapper, the lead singer and guitarist, took the time to joke around and tell a few stories. He worked for five years at the Copley Plaza Hotel, he said, and he was finding it a little surreal to be performing with it "looming over there." He'd spent most of those five years dreaming of playing for a big, enthusiastic crowd, he added, and we all cheered him. Later, when a man came up front with his maybe-four-year-old boy, Chris jumped off the stage, got on his knees in front of the kid, and jammed a bit just for him. Then he leaned over and whispered something in the boy's ear, something which made the kid giggle and blush. Say it with me: awwww!

They closed out the set with their best-known tune, "Any Little Town," thanked the audience, and hustled offstage. Someone immediately started up a "One more song!" chant, which shifted to "One Summer Day!," a deliriously happy song they hadn't played in the set. We kept up the chant until they came back onstage, and jumped up and down throughout the tune, singing along at the top of our lungs.

When the adrenaline faded, I realized the score was happy impulsive dancing 1, shins 0. Thou shalt not pogo on pavement with shin splints, else shalt thou set back thy recovery another two weeks. Ouch.

After the show, the guys sat at a nearby table and signed CDs and posters for over an hour. They were sweet and funny and obliging for photos. I'm not an autograph type, so I just talked a bit with them and asked my burning question: if they're a Boston-based band, why why why don't they play more dates in Boston?

The answer, essentially, is that they've been there/done that with Boston and they want to keep spreading their music to new places. It's a grassroots kind of thing, Chris told me. There are just so many new people out there to reach.

Which is admirable, but as a Boston fan, I wish they'd come around more often. Last night was just too much fun. They're going back on the road to places like upstate New York and Iowa and Minnesota, and they won't be back in Boston until sometime in the fall. But they're playing next week in Rhode Island, which is about an hour away.

Road trip? Just might have to.