This matinee performance relies on the stage disintegrating, tumbling, torn down by actors who demand something sleek and so un-Dr. Dog. From a just-out fifth album, the lament of “The Old Days” is the final protest in the final act, and it’s a damn rousing song. I was yesterday assured by someone-who-knows that should the moon fall down, the seas will reach a happy medium, and no one will be stuck with perpetual low tide. A day later I heard Dr. Dog tripping on about the moon, houses, and trees falling. I wondered whether this is lush folk-apocalyptism celebrating the end-times or ’60s-era modernity demanding you get with the program. Whether they want the moon to fall doesn’t matter—it will be a huge celebration.