If you’ve never heard the name of David Crowder, you can be forgiven. Maybe you haven’t hit the iTunes Music Store lately and missed his new CD, A Collision, making it all the way to number two. Maybe you’re not into retro, techno, or worship music. Regardless, anyone who has both a goatee and a guitar named after him has to be worth seeing live. Crowder brought his goatee, guitar, and band to Shandon Baptist Church for a sold-out show last Friday, and Colaspot was there.

If you’re at all familiar with Crowder’s music, you expect an odd mashup of styles. The band slips between punk, acoustic stomp, electronica, and retro guitar rock (one song is dubbed “rock opera� by Crowder) on short notice. But it’s the visual overload that does you in.

On stage, everyone is doing two things at once. The bass player fires off synth percussion loops on an iMac and gesticulates wildly over a theremin. A guitarist pokes at a keyboard with one hand. The drummer triggers sound effects with his third and fourth hands. The violinist is the real multitasker — he’s behind the turntable spinning records, which makes you wonder if there’s a school somewhere that offers a major in violin and a minor in DJ. The soundscape churned out by these six musicians is immense; they should really call themselves the David Crowder Orchestra. A flat-panel TV off to one side is scrolling song lyrics for the crowd — a nice, unobtrusive touch.

In the midst of the bedlam, Crowder himself holds forth, a weird blend of Jimmy Stewart and Ronald McDonald. His gangly frame is bent over a thinline acoustic guitar. The guitar seems out of place amid the velour tracksuits and electronic noise. Crowder speaks awkwardly, with a stutter and an old-time Texas accent. He tells a story about the “Dr. Pepper guyâ€? — Dr. Pepper evidently being his stage drink of choice — that’s hard to follow, but you have to laugh along with the guy — he’s trying. When he picks up a keytar and asks the audience to whistle along, you think you have him pigeonholed.

A couple of songs later, Crowder quiets the audience. “I hate starting songs — it always makes me nervous,â€? he cracks. He picks a couple of notes on the guitar. “See? That’s drama.â€? He messes up, chuckles tentatively, starts again. Two notes later, the band explodes into action, everything cranked to eleven. There’s no way that guy wrote this song. Lyrics are direct and unashamed; his voice distinctive, with just a hint of twang. Melodic lines are forceful. It really is drama. A minute later, you realize you’ve just been taken in by some phenomenal stagecraft. David Crowder lulls the audience off guard before delivering his sonic blows.

The band’s musical talent is no more evident than in the encore. The opening acts (arena rockers the Robbie Seay Band and acoustic jammers Shane and Shane, both enjoyable) join Crowder and company on stage for two brilliantly executed bluegrass numbers. One guitarist switches to banjo without losing a step, and we know we’ve been had once again. They’re just goofing around now, but these guys can play anything.

More than a few iTunes shoppers could’ve told you that.