Most of them are in their early to late 30s — Drummond is 40 — and have day jobs; four work as piano movers. Ford moonlights all over town.
She sounded like she might could have gone on. When she and her band mates talk about music, they sound like jaded slackers, giving an air of friendly grifters who've been around the block.
"I know many guitar players, drummers, and singers, we all know each other here, and if I don't know you yet, I will," Teret boasts.
Ford in particular affects a charming swagger, often calling herself a hustler in conversation.
That insouciance and sense of play comes across in concert too, where they try hard to put on something that's more of an installation than a show.
"We named the band Celebration because it's what we wanted to experience, and hopefully, we wanted to share that with others," she says.
On Saturday, Ford took the stage around 10 p.m., following a manic performance by Future Islands' Sam Herring, who paced across the stage like a pentecostal preacher mid-trance.
Dressed in a loose, knee-length beige dress cinched by a saucer-sized copper buckle, Ford didn't so much move as stroll. She doesn't make big gestures save for shaking her tambourine or occasionally banging the drums.
Her vocal range is fungible. It can be aggressive (as in "Junky"), forlorn ("Shelter") or witchy ("What's this Magical"), so that she comes across as Janis Joplin as played by Stevie Nicks.
The shows can hit as many notes. The encore was a moody ballad from their last album, but just before it, "Great Pyramid" was a showstopper that made the church's vast interior feel like the inside of a jukebox.
Ford says the theatricality comes out of wanting to distinguish themselves from other bands.
"We want to build an environment so that it's not an 'everyday' kind of experience; it's more of an installation," she says.
In the past three years, instead of doing back-to-back shows as they did for their first two albums, they've slowed down to a month apart to plan elaborate themes.
That pace, along with the languorous speed at which they produced their album, is thanks to their divorce in 2008 from major indie label 4AD.
The label, which also represents crossover band TV on the Radio, had signed them up in 2005, way before other local bands like Beach House and Wye Oak got major label recognition.
But Ford says the decision to break with them was ideological. Working through the red tape and bureaucracy of a label was cumbersome, she says. There were meetings about cover art or lyrical content that for a band that appreciates their freedom as much as Celebration does was suffocating, Ford says.
A label also demanded that they go on two-month, soul-scorching tours.
"I'm 38; I don't want to do that anymore," she says. "Unless someone pays me a lot of money and they want to make it super cushy, but that doesn't happen in rock 'n' roll."