Rusted Root is a band with a buzz. It has people talking. Unfortunately for the band, though, the talking is going on during its shows. On Tuesday night, when Rusted Root played the first of three nights at New York City's Beacon Theater, the young crowd was in a festive mood. Early on in the 90-minute set, when the band trotted out a string of five slow-tempoed songs from its second major-label release "Remember," the music was noticeably supplemented by the din of conversation. While generous with its applause between songs, the nearly-packed house was more than happy to socialize until a familiar tune from 1994's platinum-selling album "When I Woke" picked up the pace.

Could this be the same band acclaimed for its live performance, an " experience" in which dedicated audience and band share a joyous symbiotic relationship? The six (formerly seven) member band from Pittsburgh still offered its engaging, layered sound that combines a rhythm-driven core with the loopy string inflections of an exotic Bond flick locale. But the new songs do lack the infectious hooks of earlier hits "Send Me On My Way" and "Ecstasy." And then there's the notable absence of accessible lyrics.

Lyricist/lead singer/guitarist Michael Glabicki's songs emphasize the sound of the words over their esoteric new age ramblings, the clearest of which come off like the speech of a flailing politician: "lovers and friends, my hurt is gone, been hoping to find my way, hands of light will come, to uncrystalize our fear" ("Faith I Do Believe").

What's more, the new album was put together in a compartmentalized, heavily produced fashion, unlike the live treatment given to "When I Woke." This may be why, for some of these studio crafted tunes, such as "Sister Contine," the live sound was considerably less cohesive than its recorded counterpart. On the superb "Faith I Do Believe," however, the soaring backing vocals of Liz Berlin achieved a greater prominence in the live mix. Berlin deserves a larger role as relief to Glabicki and his trademark yodel.

And when a chance arose to pump up the jam, during "Cruel Sun," one of its earliest songs, the band displayed little more than an earnest tinkering to a drum beat, before returning to the written song with Yes-like rigidity.

The band borrowed a few other tricks from its distant arena rock cousins, as well. Perhaps sensing the need to keep the audience's attention, it unexpectedly resorted to a souped-up light show. While a sunbeam affect was sublime during "Cruel Sun," the multi-colored strobe lights for solos by drummers Jim Donovan and Jim DiSpirito were an odd incongruity.

With "Remember" being largely forgotten by record buyers, Rusted Root, at the very least, needs its devotees to remain faithful -- and a bit more attentive. In the quirky "Virtual Reali