Jaill instantly became one of Milwaukee’s most talked-about bands when it signed a deal with venerable indie label Sub Pop late last year. But constant chatter from local media outlets and blogs doesn’t necessarily equal familiarity among the general public; while Jaill has garnered significant buzz outside of Milwaukee after unveiling its Sub Pop debut That’s How We Burn last month, it appeared that a good portion of the audience assembled for Saturday’s record-release show at Turner Hall were seeing the band for the first time. Jaill might as well have billed itself as “that local Sub Pop band” as far as many attendees were concerned. While the subdued but curious crowd made the show feel more like a polite introduction than a joyous homecoming, the eternally scrappy Jaill set about making new fans with admirable gusto, tearing into a set of songs culled primarily from Burn and last year’s equally appealing There’s No Sky (Oh My My) with characteristically low-key humility and charm. Handsomely mustachioed frontman Vinnie Kircher immediately set out to assuage any fears that he’s gone rock-star in light of his band’s recent good fortunes, gamely offering to share his back-stage (and half-emptied) bottle of Jack Daniels with the audience before launching into the set-opening title track from There’s No Sky. (For the record, the bottle was pretty much drained by the end of the second song.) If Jaill is feeling the crippling crush of industry pressure now that its records are available in all corners of the globe, Kircher and Co. weren’t showing it Saturday night. If anything, Jaill sounded more relaxed than usual; typically, Jaill flies through its songs in concert like a runaway ambulance through a red light, but at Turner the band slowed down just enough to allow the snappy melodies of new songs like “She’s My Baby” and “Demon” to stand on their own rather than coalesce into a twitchy blur. It was also refreshing to hear the harmonies of bassist Andy Harris and guitarist Ryan Adams ring out with greater clarity behind Kircher’s caffeinated lead vocals. For those accustomed to seeing Jaill in local bars like the Cactus Club or Club Garibaldi, it might’ve seemed a little strange to see them dwarfed by Turner’s relatively large stage. (And with 200 or so more people standing among them.) But Kircher did his best to make Saturday’s show feel as intimate as any Jaill gig, cracking dumb jokes between songs that flowed like the goofy non-sequiturs that frequently appear in his lyrics. “We’ve reached the point in our careers where Austin is the cheapest thing on the merch table,” Kircher joked, referring to Jaill’s maniacally pounding drummer Austin Dutmer. “I just came here from another job,” Dutmer shot back, almost certainly not joking. And so it goes in Milwaukee, a place where success will never outweigh unpretentious, blue-collar values like hard work, beer-drinking, and not being an asshole even if you get signed by a “cool” record label.