It was a cold Friday night at the Fireside Bowl in Chicago. The temperature in the alley wasn't much warmer than the temperature outside, but atleast I was out of the wind. I had come to see Her Flyaway Manner, a Nebraskan band, but they hadn't shown up yet.

The first band,The Audreys, began to play. They were a local Chicago band and had a sort of Mooney-Suzuki guitar driven rock sound. The lead singer’s movements were awkward, as if forced, while he tried to croon to a comatose audience. The weather had sucked out any energy the crowd could offer. Out of the twenty people that were there, only five had paid admission. The rest were in the other performing bands having beers with their buddies at the bar.

Next came Re: Rec, a multi-layered, complex, predominantly instrumental band , but at rare instances one of the members would mumble some lyrics into the microphone then run back to rock out with the rest of his bandmates. Between songs the "lead" singer would promote the their merchandise and try to initiate some sort of interaction between the band and the audience. He punctuated each song segue with an endearing smile that spread across his entire face.

Between sets, I would run to the bathroom to warm myself under the heat of the two hand dryers that hung above the disgusting, crusty sinks. The drafty venue, which normally would be heated by bodies, was empty and cold.

Her Flyaway Manner still hadn’t shown up. Phone tag between the publicist, the booking agent and the band had become increasingly frantic as the band's allotted time approached. The Atari Star, the advertised headlining band, filled in their absence. As the band began to play a sort of surreal, math-rocky set, Her Flyaway Manner arrived from their ten hour trek from Lincoln, Nebraska. They quietly tried to load their equipment next to the stage, without interrupting the performance. After their stuff was settled in, they took some seats at the bar and tried to unwind before they made their way to the stage.

They began their set with full force. Their chaotic distortion and thunderous rhythms had an almost calculated conciseness. They punched beats and interchanged time signatures while a powerful voice beamed out from behind shaggy blond bangs and thick black-rimmed glasses. Their sharp guitars pierced the stagnant air. They rocked out as best they could during their short twenty-five minute set.

All in all the show was a bust. Her Flyaway Manner's energy was admirable, due to the lack of fuel from the crowd. They were the most talented of the bunch.