Halfway through his set Thurston Moore asked with lopsided interest if we'd eaten. We are pretty sure that means he hadn't. You can't fool us T, we've been in relationships, we understand doublespeak. But it was nice, in the intimacy of the Apple store's second floor, that he felt close enough to divulge his pangs. Stomach frothing or not, Thurston and his group (Chris Brokaw, Samara Lubelski, Steve Shelley and a man he introduced as "Blood Hammer" who was actually No Neck Blues Band longhair Matt Heyner) fairly faithfully played songs from his new solo LP, Trees Outside the Academy. The last time we saw Thurston play on his own it was with Harry Pussy drummer Adris Hoyos and the entire thing sounded like the flailing end to a grand rock show, some axeman's shred gone way too wild. It was a relief to see the two acoustic guitars picked up and regular chords played. And it was blissful to hear them fingerpicked together, the double strum a mellowed old guy's Saucer-Like-ish bit of bliss. Mostly, though, he abandoned the calm, even once directing everyone to their amplifiers, bent over awkward and held like a yoga pose, pulling enough feedback to undoubtedly bother shoppers lurking below. Us? We were happy, sitting deep in seats usually reserved for teaching how to synch your iLife, watching a bowl cutted wacko riff away.