A tightly-packed crowd on the main floor at Music Hall of Williamsburg got a good 80 minutes of Foxygen Tuesday night.

Foxygen has a sizable following. The band sold out two pretty big venues here on back-to-back weeknights despite uncertainty over frontman Sam France’s performance fitness. The only advanced indication these shows had a shot of going off was a brief, sputtering Foxygen performance at a festival in Austin, TX earlier this month.

Bearing the weight of his skinny frame on a cane lit up with Christmas lights, France was clearly hobbled by the bum leg he broke at a performance this summer in the Twin Cities. His injury forced the cancellation of a string of Foxygen dates, mostly out west.

For this show, France occasionally prowled the stage with a pronounced limp. Between songs early in the gig, he discussed his frustration over lacking the kind of manic mobility that is a trademark of his showmanship. He thanked the audience for its understanding and support. More coherent and lucid than I expected, France voiced heartfelt appreciation that his inability to dance as he’s accustomed to did not hinder the large crowd’s inclination to gyrate wildly while he maintained a tameness forced by his limited movement. At times, France broke into bonkers mode only to be reminded by his still-recovering limb that he should rein himself in. Several times he used his cane to whack a cymbal on drummer Shaun Fleming’s kit.

There was about a 40 minute wait for Foxygen to appear on stage after opener Ben Chatrer wrapped up. All the while, fans jostled for position while listening to a soundtrack of scary Halloween sounds typically heard at a haunted house. Chatrer’s electric piano lost its full connection two songs in but he persevered as the sound man compensated by raising the level such there was a powerful hum coming through the mix.

At 10:55 PM, Foxygen’s Jonathan Rado came on before the rest of his bandmates and played an introductory piece on his synthesizer. Dressed in a lab coat and goggles, Rado played the part of mad doctor. Then came France and the rest of them in their own Halloween costumes. France looked like Beetlejuice to a tee. With a psychedelic loop of images projected behind them, the band played a good chunk of their two LP’s worth of material. They quit a few minutes after France labored off through an exit door stage left. One fan had yelled repeatedly “San Fran” to request their most well-known recent tune but perhaps it didn’t fit on this Brooklyn night. I walked out with the crowd at about 12:20 AM. Many filed into pizza joints or bars on Bedford. I opted for the B62 bus back to Queens. Bop, bop, buh, dah, dah, dah. Bah, dah, dah…

The ticket I bought in advance cost $18. A plastic cup of Bud draft at the bar was five bucks.

After the bus dropped me off at Queens Plaza, I waited for the E train. A MTA power wash team numbering in the couple dozen worked to clean the grimy station. A group of bench sleepers on the train platform level scattered when a storm of mist came raining down on them from crevices in the foundation above.