I was at The NorVa alone.

It was $31. Mad Men Season Four premiered during the show. And my mom was in the hospital.

Hypertalented sisters.

But the identical Canadian twins are a pop virus: with enough exposure, it doesn’t matter whether you want to like them, you’re a goner. And there is no cure. The first fan I chatted with also had friends that played their albums on repeat until she had to say, “Yes, okay, this is catchy. This is good.”

Though I’m usually tapping my foot with the bass drum, I couldn’t help bouncing around to the opening tracks from 2009′s Sainthood and the healthy mix of sing-alongs from The Con and So Jealous. If you’re not familiar, do yourself a favor and have a friend blast You Wouldn’t Like Me on the next road trip.

The sisters’ raw, uninhibited expression pours off the stage, a tidal wave of inspiration for their relatively young fan-base (who laughed at almost every moment of self-deprecating onstage banter). I can imagine the two girls when they were younger, goofing off at their retail jobs and laughing, “Touring the world singing our songs is going to be so much better than this…”

Tegan and Sara’s love of love songs have spanned every album they’ve written, but instead of growing tired, you find yourself saying, “OH! I love this one, TOO!’” It’s clear that their writing comes from a real time and place; they’ve been young, heart-broken, foolish, and in love. Some bands ask you to sing the chorus with them, but Tegan says, “Pretend you’re onstage singing to your ex who’s in the audience with your name on their shirt.”

Tegan bathed in blue.

They’ve been playing together for sixteen years, twelve of those as professionals, according to Tegan. I wonder just how much fun those first fledgling years were, plucking instruments and realizing how important it was to share their songs. The last time they made it to Norfolk was 2005 and the smaller crowd didn’t cheer for an encore, apparently—this time Tegan made sure to explain how clapping and cheering after the ‘last song’ meant we wanted more. Closing with the older track “Living Room,” Tegan thanked a mother in the audience for bringing a “next-generation fan,” her seven-year-old daughter, and smiled as she passed her the setlist.

I left Norfolk last night with a sore throat and a sweat-soaked t-shirt (not unlike the shirts shrieking fans tossed from the balcony, along with the occasional undergarment). Tegan and Sara’s honest, simple passion for songwriting and performance was a welcome reminder:  lay down the cash, music that makes you jump around smiling ’til your face hurts is always worth it.

And Don Draper can wait. Though I should probably get to the hospital to thank my mother for teaching me to be happy regardless of what everyone else is doing with their Sunday night.