2004-08-17 - 9:39 a.m.

Let's get up to speed...

Went to Chicago, partied hard for Don's 25th b-day, bar hopped till 5am, lost Smitty, found Smitty passed out on back stoop, came home, resumed semi-normal life, got new Firsthand Studios design business off the ground with Stephen, etc...

And now onto the good stuff.

Wow did I see a fantastic show last night. For the first time in the 5 or 6 years that I've known the NonStop3/Confident Years crew, I can honestly say that last night was the first time that they looked like the real deal.

And maybe that can be attributed to the fact that it was a very full house, or perhaps because this is Columbia, their home town, or maybe it was the weeks they spent on the road touring and gaining experience...

Regardless, there was something in the air that night (Fernando...oh man, that was a terrible ABBA pun...please disregard)...

As I was saying, there was a certain tension that hung in the crowd leading up to the boys set. The bands before them were made up of some high school kids from the area, and thus they brought a very large group of their friends. The opening bands played their sets, and they sounded, well, like high school kids trying to look as cool and affluent as the musicians they idolize.

Maneuvering through the crowd, shaking hands, trying not to spill my Makers Mark on the rocks (twist of lime), I wondered which band would show up tonight.

Was it going to be the Confident Years that I'd been seeing a lot of lately? The band that shambles up on stage, spends the majority of the set looking at the floor or the ceiling, plays their set like it was their job, and not their passion...

-Or-

Would it be the Confident years from a few months back...the band that was excited to be playing together, the band that would exude raw, punk energy, trying desperately to flatten the crowd with the biggest, loudest sound they could squeeze out of their instruments...

Turns out it was neither.

The lights dimmed, sound checks were completed, and the boys took their spots. Right off the bat, it was obvious that this was going to be something different...something special.

I hate to use this cliché, but the guys had their game faces on. Neil, who sometimes looks affluent behind his set, sported instead a cunning grin, something between a knowing smile and a smirk. Stephen was facing his amp making final adjustments, but his posture was different. The show hadn't even started, but you could already see the muscles tensing, not in a nervous or angry gesture, but more like the posture of an athlete about to dominate a sporting event. Mike, in blue jeans and tucked in polo, hid his game face behind a tightly pulled down black messenger cap, occasionally flashing a full teeth grin to members of the audience.

The crowd was about a hundred strong, and as the band prepared for their opening song, 15 or 20 of them moved to the front of the stage to lend some encouragement to the guys...

Turns out they didn't need it. There could have been 1 or 1000 people in the crowd and the results would have been the same.

Mike announced the band and indicated that the first song would be "Dance with me."

Some bands, even at the professional level, need a song or two before they find their groove and everything falls into pace for the remainder of the show.

Confident Years had it from the first drum click. Neil was a machine all night long. The undisputed heavyweight of tempo and song control, he kept every track straight as an arrow, creating the perfect backbone structure to support the other members of the band. And further more, he looked...well...happy. Most other times I've seen Neil play, he looked like he was concentrating so intently on his drumming, that he forgot that this isn't a practice, it's a show, and thus he should engage the crowd and have a little fun. This was definitely not the case last night. Flashing grins during the build-ups and showcasing emotions that ranged from excited to aggressive and even playful, Neil did more than just provide a ridiculously smooth and powerful rhythm, he fostered the much needed energy and conveyed it out from behind his kit until it infected not only the audience, but also his band mates.

And that energy found its way into Stephen and buried itself so deeply that you thought he might rawk all night if given half the chance. Starting with his back to the audience, I wondered what was going through his head. Johanna was in the audience, seeing him perform for the first time. Did that have any affect on him? I'd like to think it did, because when he spun around after the first few measures of "Dance with Me," I saw a completely different Stephen than I'd ever seen. The Stephen that spun around was a seasoned performer who no longer looked slightly intimidated nor did he look agitated in the least bit. Bass slung low, bent slightly at the knees, Stephen moved with a confidence that immediately attracted and even demanded the attention of the audience. Swaying, no, pulsing back and forth, he laid down an intense, driving base line that rivaled the kick and snare power that Neil was creating. The two of them worked together, interweaving a steady sound that infected the entire room, from the very front, to the very back. Symptoms included an undeniable urge to tap or stomp feet in time to the song, including the occasional pumping of fists and clapping.

Rawking a ridiculously cool dark green Telecaster, Mike roared out of nowhere conjuring the cool fierceness of a young Pete Townsend or Angus Young. Shimmying back and forth, stomping while strumming, and gnashing his teeth, Mike harnessed the wild sounds coming out of his amp and focused them like I've never seen him do before. Chords would scream from his guitar, heading for loud dissonant destruction, and just when it seemed they must dissolve into off-tune feedback, Mike would pull them back from the edge, forcing them into a beautiful, loud, patchwork of beautiful major chords and variations.

The band was connecting not only with the audience, but with each other. Looks were passed around the stage, the kind of looks that say, "I love you guys. I miss doing this with you. This is what we should spend the rest of our lives doing. I don't want a day job, I want to drive around the country in a shitty van, eating Sheets, In and Out or Wendy’s. Whatever, just so long as its us, and we're rocking for somebody."

As I glanced around the venue, I was pleasantly surprised to see a very diverse group of listeners enjoying the set. Normally, it's just the close friends of the band standing up near the stage. But last night, there were the close friends, the high school kids, the indie-rawkers, the sorority girls, and even some 30-somethings. Confident Years did something that only the best professional bands can do, they transcended their own music, their own genre, their own style, and made it something that everyone can like. It's like the first time you catch your mom singing a Coldplay or White Stripes song, or the first time she smiles when she catches you singing a Carol King or James Taylor song. It doesn’t matter who you are, you can't help the fact that music is good, the performance is engaging, and the feeling is amazing.

So the set rolled on, every song sounding crisp, clear and powerful. Things were somehow messy without being sloppy and crisp without being uniform.

As the set came to a close, the band opted to close with their most radio friendly tune "Starting Again." It was fitting then because the band truly had somehow managed to reinvent themselves, without changing at all. They were the same three guys, playing the same songs, and yet everything was different.

I couldn't help myself...disregarding any possible ridiculing, I threw my fist in the air, shouting "Before we fall apart!" as if this was my favorite band and I'd finally gotten tickets to see them for the first time. Pick slides, backing vocals, drum fills...it was all perfect.

The show ended at exactly the right moment. The audience was completely engaged, the musicians used every drop of energy to its fullest potential, and the whiskey in my glass was down to its last sip. What a way to finish out the night.

The boys left the stage, the house lights and music came up, and people resumed their routine of drinking and congregating. But for about an hour, the Confident Years were the kings of Columbia, and we were lucky enough to see them now, before they became the kings of the radio.

previous - next