Cold? Aloof? No, not this Steely Dan

Could Steely Dan have grown a heart?

The group's "Rent Party" tour slouches into the Tower Theater Nov. 19 and 20. It's an audience-oriented affair: The band performs entire albums (the sainted Aja on the 19th and the scarcely less-celebrated Royal Scam the next night) and takes requests.

What? Whole albums? Requests? What have you guys done with my Steely Dan?

Walter Becker, one of the two fellows (the other being Donald Fagen) at the heart of this floating jazz-pop orchestra, says it's not that big a change. "We just have never had enough opportunity to make the audience part of the concert," he says. "And now we can. People can come and have fun any way they want. If it's nostalgia, that's just fine."

Becker, songwriter, arranger, guitarist, bassist, says the title of the tour is a pun. "There's a reference to the old rhythm-and-blues tunes, talking about 'come over to my rent party,' " he says by phone from New York. "And it's also a comment on the reality of the music biz today, that there's less money in record sales and more in touring. And it's also a comment on the larger economic situation."

Like the rent parties of last century, in which cash-strapped folks invited friends over and everyone put a little cash in the coffee can, the "Rent Party" tour "wants to bring the audience into the concert situation, more so than we've had a chance to do before." Thus, the full performance of cherished albums ("we don't play the originals note for note," Becker warns. "You'll recognize them, though"), the stress on the listener's pleasure.

What does Becker think of the state of the music biz - companies down, touring up?

"Touring is so much better now," he says, chuckling. "We actually like it. Back in the '70s, touring was such a losing proposition. We'd end up always owing the companies money, but they kept sending us out in support of every record. So we were in a bad situation, with the companies' forcing us to lose money on one hand, and a very dysfunctional band on the other."

In the early 1970s, they forged a singular sound based on sophisticated, jazz-based tunesmithing, bizarre/obscure/poetic/perverted lyrics, and a standard of musicianship and recording that left much of pop music behind.

They toured for a few years, didn't like it, and didn't like being a band, so the group broke up. Some of the musicians "didn't want to go in the direction we were going, toward a more jazz feel," Becker says. "And frankly, Donald and I were much more interested in making records."

So Fagen and Becker pumped out records for the next five years, assembling the best musicians they could find to create a series of studio masterpieces: Katy Lied, The Royal Scam, Aja, Gaucho.

Back then, some critics called the Steely Dan vibe aloof. Bookish technogeeks uncaring of their audience. Records perfect, maniacal playing, killer beat. And cold.

But their songs face any listener with very emotional music: the boy who doesn't fit in ("Any World That I'm Welcome To," "Aja"), cynical satire ("King of the World"), youthful high jinks ("My Old School"), ominous warning ("Black Friday"), existential angst ("Your Gold Teeth II"), plain old lust ("Rose Darling"), fear of the high life destroying your friends ("Peg," "Glamour Profession").

And terrible sadness. In "Black Cow," Fagen sings the accusatory lines "You were high / It was a crying disgrace / They saw your face" to an unavailable woman who will never love him as much as he loves her. Speakers know they're in the process of being left behind. We hear, but don't hear all of, an argument over a threatening newcomer in "Gaucho," and the singer finally cries: "What do you think I'm yelling for?"

So where did this "coldness" idea come from? Perhaps it was the sonic cleanness of the records, like European jazz recordings. Maybe critics weren't ready for that.

But audiences were. No matter how unhappy the band might have been, bootleg recordings show fans were enthusiastic. And since the re-formed band started touring again 10 years ago, it has become clear: Steely Dan is actually . . . beloved.

Some fans are boomers grasping after their vanished youths, sure. But many just love to dance, and much Dan is dance. Rikki never lost that number, far as they're concerned.

Steely Dan 2009 has the feeling of finally getting around to some unfinished business. "We've put together the best band we've ever had," says Becker - and what an astonishing statement, given the all-star constellations he and Fagen pulled together. "So now, we can explore the old tunes, find new things every time. And this whole audience thing" - he pauses - "that, too, is something we've been waiting a long time to do."