You can just picture the all-ages show behind the skate park under Southern California skies, where Roger, Ryan and Richie honor the tradition of the power trio and create the tableau for skaters to sniff glue and fuck around. Themes of isolation and impending responsibilities will be recognizable to anyone forced to grow up too soon. You’ll nod along to songs like “Product of the Eighties,” “Let The Bullets Through” and “Entitled” and say, “I know this song—I get this.”

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There is an unashamed bookishness at play here, similar to Orange Juice, but don’t be mistaken—MMM wants to kick open your doors of perception and rock your mind. Last stop: your skull.

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Some joker even tried to mosh and was TAKEN DOWN by a bespectacled gent half his size. It was beautiful like National Geographic. Soft Pack drummer Brian plays with just as much originality and abandon as Moe Tucker, putting a jerry-rigged cocktail kit being through its paces with equal parts precision and ferocity. These guys were tight, telepathic and tuned in. I‘ve felt the same kind of tranquil delirium out on the ocean surrounded by surfers—me sponging on my boogie board—when it all just makes sense. Kids were dancing on the side of the stage, in front of it, on top of it… No poses, no frills, just rock.

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The name Antique Imp conjures up an image of an aging elven creature regaling younglings with tales of times gone by, and this name actually applies to the music—this is a band that carefully thumbs its way through the crate of your most beloved albums and helps you see them as a cohesive whole. Antique Imp explains their own take on your R.E.M. and My Bloody Valentine LPs, telling stories about when they first bought their copy of Eno’s Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy and describing exactly why Syd Barrett is so influential.

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Then it happens. Lou accidentally steps on Murph’s glasses. The crowd changes after that. It’s as if their own glasses were stepped on and they see this show differently now, as an opportunity to transcend. Sure enough, an 11-year-old is hoisted over what was previously a pretty calm crowd and is happily tossed around. Then an older guy starts crowd-surfing, and another. When J. peels into the opening for “Freak Scene,” the transformation is suddenly complete. Years melt away from the crowd as formerly civil looking loos stop politely sipping their beers and start running towards a swirling chasm of dancing bodies, happily colliding into one another.

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It was the same effect the too cool guy at school has on all his crazed female admirers. Finally, Jay pulled an audience member from the insanity of the front row and handed over his Flying V guitar. This kid started wailing on the neck as bassist Steve and drummer Billy whipped the crowd into a howling mania. The shit went off everyone was locked into the same distorted frequency. I was happy I had earplugs and even happier I did not miss out.

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Walking up to the Smell Friday night, I see a slight man with bushy hair and unusually well-tailored casual wear walking a few feet behind. Ian Svenonius walking the streets is just like finding a mint copy of a Beatles Butcher LP in a dollar bin, a serendipitous October surprise. So I asked him how the Chain And The Gang tour was going. He wearily replied, “We’ve been on tour for 43 days, with only two days off. I’m kind of tired, but it’s a good time, I guess.” An honest answer. His newest band, Chain And The Gang, is on tour with The Hive Dwellers, Calvin Johnson of K Records’ new group. While both Ian and Calvin shared the same backing band, the two live experiences varied drastically.

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