Cecilia’s family groove

“Music is a gift. It makes people think, and it makes people happy when it’s done

right,” says Cecilia drummer and patriarch Ken Veltz.

Pick up your gift Sunday afternoon when the family that stays together plays together at Jammin’ Java in Vienna.

“We were always very close and always singing together,” Mr. Veltz says of the family. “It was just kind of a joke; it wasn’t even a serious plan, because we were never stage moms. Or dads.”

But bloodlines will out. Mr. Veltz’s father was a jazz drummer, and Mr. Veltz followed him — almost willy-nilly, he suggests: “I did it because my DNA kicked in.”

It kicked in again via his children, so that when the family faced hard times in 1999, they could form Cecilia (after the patron saint of musicians) and secure a steady gig at That’s Amore in Vienna.

“Necessity is the mother of invention. We needed to live, and this was invented,” Mr. Veltz explains.

Cecilia quickly made its mark here and in New York, where it moved in 2000 and where it acquired “honorary Veltz” Kevin Jacoby on bass. The band’s trademark is a high-energy, exuberant and goofy show that resembles a jam-band version of Fleetwood Mac. Mr. Veltz plays drums, mom Jeannie sings harmony, son Drew is the guitarist, and daughters Laura and Allison sing lead.

Those young women’s voices complement each other well. Laura, 24, typically uses a bluesy, funky growl, unless she’s cooing a harmony, as on “You Like Her” (a crowd favorite). Allison, 22, has a sweeter voice, and her astonishing range and vocal gymnastics suggest a Mariah Carey or other diva.

“They are almost dead opposites in every single aspect of life, including their performance style,” Mr. Veltz says.

Financed entirely by fan investors, “This” is Cecilia’s first studio-quality album. Laura has a probable single in “Be Mine,” a goofy yet well-crafted head-bobber that could be the “MMMBop” of the new century.

“I’m a big fan of simplicity in songwriting, and things that make little kids sing along,” Laura says. (That may explain why the song includes the line “I like crunchy peanut butter,” plus a SpongeBob reference.)

“Missed the Magic” is reminiscent in its sound of the ’70s and ’80s rock band Heart, though the Veltz sisters don’t rock the way Heart’s sisters Ann and Nancy Wilson did. Mr. Veltz wrote “Missed” after Laura split up with a boyfriend Mr. Veltz dismisses as a loser.

“I’m writing it from a dad perspective,” Mr. Veltz says, “but I gotta be careful because I need to write for a girl in her early 20s.”

“Beautiful” showcases a furious Allison, and there’s a defiant one in “My Life is Mine.” Mr. Veltz admits that the “reality songs” are angrier than the usual Cecilia fare, but stresses, “We don’t want to get on any direction ever” to become the “angry band.”

In this nonangry spirit, families are welcome at the Sunday afternoon gig: The verbal slings and arrows the Veltzes toss at each other are usually PG. “We did an all-ages show at Iota, and we had 30 kids from age 6 to 10, and they all sat down on the floor,” Mr. Veltz says. “And they were all Cecilia fans.”

Cecilia had a deal with Atlantic Records but walked away amicably in 2002. “We kind of fought the law, and we won,” Mr. Veltz claims. “By leaving, we were able to retain the thing that attracted them to us to begin with.

“The thing that’s worked is we have fun onstage and people know it,” he says. “We make it as easy as possible to join the party. Let’s have a good time tonight. Let’s go home and treat our kids a little bit better.”

• • •

The first alternative band to reach mainstream mega-success returns to town Monday night as R.E.M. plays the decidedly mainstream Constitution Hall.

R.E.M. is frontman Michael Stipe, who writes and sings the band’s songs, with Mike Mills on bass and Peter Buck on guitar.

Mr. Stipe has long had one of the most distinctive voices in rock, simultaneously plaintive and preening. But mostly he goes for somber and reflective on the just-released album “Around the Sun” (Warner).

Straightforward lyrics (at least by R.E.M. standards) and a partial return to their jangly Southern roots make this an accessible outing, sometimes too much so. A highlight is the deceptively simple “Aftermath,” in which Mr. Stipe finds existential truth after a breakup, set to a rollicking beat. It sounds like a high-budget outtake from the Magnetic Fields’ “69 Love Songs.”

Mr. Stipe finally does find his old voice on the title track at album’s end, delivering lines such as “Give me a voice so strong/I can question what I have seen” with just the right amount of yearning and defiance.

Now if he can just hold that tone until the next album.