Singer Alice Glass going bonkers onstage is, of course, part of Crystal Castles’ mythology: the slight, confrontational punk singer is one of the most compelling people fronting a band this mainstream (a description they’d balk at, but like, rough guestimate is that 40,000 people watched their set—it was a congregation of humans coiling together like a rat king). But it’s never a disappointment in part because one never knows what chaos they may rain upon us, the tension within their bright synths endemic to the intensity of Glass’s performances. This time, bleached blonde and baby-barretted, she catapulted herself on the ground, into the photopit and, eventually, did something that was technically crowdsurfing but was more like crowd-walking, levitating across outstretched hands like some kind of punk apparition. She also took liberal swigs from a bottle of Jameson, at which point the crowd would inevitably cheer apparently drunk people love nothing better than to watch other people get drunk, glory be.