As I was entering the dim, cave-like confines of the Gypsy TeaRoom, a man with dreadlocks and a surly expression demanded my ID,and once my two friends pleadingly vouched for me that I’mover 17, he grudgingly let me through.

The environment was mystifying, with the stage’s red glowstrikingly outlining the edges of multicolored oriental lanternshung from the ceiling.

The edgy concert posters and murals covering the brick wallsalso added to the underground music atmosphere.

The majority of onlookers were 20-somethings with dyed blackhair and dark-rimmed glasses, lounging while smoking cigarettes ordrinking. Very few were showing any interest in the groupperforming, a local punk rock band dubbed Lady of the Lake,formerly Kobayashi.

Their bassist frequently stomped around, bent down from thewaist, shaking his curly mop of hair and seemingly screaming at thefloor, nearly consuming the lead singer’s less-harshvocals.

They closed with a song about empowering one’s selfthrough voting. The concept was not especially embraced, possiblybecause it’s been exhausted by every artist in the businessat the moment.

My supposition: Lady of the Lake would have been semi-impressivehad they not been followed by three incredible, significantlybetter bands.

The next performance was by The Statistics.

Their front man, Denver Dally, already made famous for his roleas guitarist in the Desaparecidos, an emo band featuring ConorOberst of Bright Eyes. The Statistics left a mild, yet affective,nostalgic impact on the crowd with lyrics from fittingly-namedsongs like “Reminisce” and “Grass is AlwaysGreener”.

Paris, Texas followed and instantly created a new energy thatbuzzed through the crowd.

“Good evening, my children of the night!” yelledScott Sharpe, the Wisconsin band’s tall, pencil-thinvocalist.

He reminded me somewhat of Frank ‘n’ Furter from TheRocky Horror Picture Show, despite his conservative apparel of amaroon button up and black dress pants.

Maybe it’s Paris, Texas’ upbeat pop-punk rock musicdriving Scott’s eccentric dance moves and tug-o-war with themicrophone during ditties including “One Hot Coma” and”Bombs Away!”

I asked him later about his comfort with entertaining.

“Were you always this animated?”

“Pretty much!” he exhaled with a huge grin.

I bought a copy of Like You Like and Arsonist,their latest release, and bashfully asked for an autograph. Sharpeseemed genuinely pleased, appreciative of the compliment.

Although Paris, Texas had some major star power, there’sno doubt the audience was rooting for Minus the Bear’s indiesynth-pop rock.

I was quickly shoved away from my spot two feet away from thestage as the band set up their drums, keyboards and guitars. Theanticipation was overwhelming, but Minus the Bear delivered withenchanting strains of gorgeous music.

Denver of The Statistics was right on track when he commented,”Dave, Minus the Bear’s guitarist, is the bestguitarist in the entire world!

He does something like this [finger-taps strings]…except,when he does it, it sounds like the angels or something.”

Every song was magical, but the one that defined the entire,magnificent concert for me was “I’m Totally Not DownWith Rob’s Alien” off of the new album They MakeBeer Commercials Like This.

Minus the Bear delivered a poignant, flawless performance thatnight, to the delight of the Gypsy Tea Room.