Plastics Hi-Fi. Photo by Eric Woodville, borrowed from the Plastics Hi-Fi website. This is the promotional shot commonly associated with Bright Eyes. Doesn't Conor look disturbingly like Winona Ryder? Grandaddy. Obviously this picture wasn't taken at the Double Door -- we borrowed it from their website. Picture them indoors on a stage roughly 1/5th the size.

It has occurred to me that venues and promoters are a bit craftier than they might initially appear. You see, they have this uncanny knack of sandwiching the crappiest of bands in-between two really great bands, thereby forcing you to watch a crappy set, or miss out on hearing the first stellar band. Both ways you get screwed. Tonight’s performance was no exception.

The evening started off well with a set from up-and-coming Chicago rockers Plastics Hi-Fi. Though the club was only about half-full, plenty of Plastics fans were on hand as the group sprinted through an inspired set of smart-yet-tasty psychedelic-power-pop. Combining the best elements of Cheap Trick, Big Star and The Who into one punchy, hook-laden song after another. They even managed to make the clichéd art of syncopated posing look cool. Thirty minutes and about ten songs later the sweaty and appreciative Plastics left the stage to a rousing applause. Expect big things from this group in the months to come, as several high-profile indie labels have set their sights on them.

Then came the utterly droll part of the evening. When a band as good as Plastics opens and a band as magnificent as Grandaddy is closing, you know somebody terrible has to be sandwiched between them. Tonight, it was to be Bright Eyes.

The critically adored Nebraska natives played what was, hands down, one of the worst sets of music I have ever heard in my life. Granted, coming in I was a bit biased; a month or so ago I reviewed Bright Eyes' new album Fevers and Mirrors, which made me want to hurl myself out of a moving vehicle. I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt as far as their live performance was concerned. Little did I know what I was in for. After Bright Eyes completed their first song I had the urge to start chucking bricks in their direction, so awful was the sound. And as I soon found out, I was not alone. As the band’s set droned on there was a gradual, increasingly less subtle migration of folks from the front of the club towards the back, all in an attempt to evade the musical torture that was Bright Eyes. Throughout it all, miniature indie prick Conor Oberst (underage yet swilling beer) wailed like a dying giraffe, spewing his tepid lyrics while either plunking at a rickety electric piano or strumming a de-tuned guitar. This horrendous live showing goes further in proving my theory that Bright Eyes might just be the worst band ever. Thankfully, greener musical pastures awaited us…

When they finally trudged onto the stage, Grandaddy were met with ravenous applause and a damn-near sold-out crowd. In lieu of any sort of greeting the band immediately launched into a gorgeously serene version of “Laughing Stock” from their criminally underappreciated Under the Western Freeway LP. From there they flowed effortlessly into a driving rendition of “First Movement/Message Send:ID#5646766”, the wonderfully obtuse B-Side of their “Crystal Lake” single. To look at them you would have never guessed that these five bearded men from Modesto could create such a beautiful sound. The remainder of the regular set saw the band mix new tracks like “Hewitt’s Daughter,” “Chartsengrafs” and “Miner at the Dial-a-View” from their recently released Sophtware Slump with older favorites like “AM180” and “Collective Dreamwish of Upper Class Elegance”. Between songs, frontman Jason Lytle concluded that Modesto was “the employee break room of California”.

After their triumphant set, Grandaddy eventually returned for the inevitable encore, which concluded with a venomous reading of Under the Western Freeway’s “Summer Here Kids”. Then, into a cloud of buzz saw guitars and screeching synths, they vanished -- but not before leaving the audience feeling cleansed and refreshed, not unlike a Californian rain -- if it were to ever rain in California that is. They even managed to wash most of Bright Eyes' sonic sludge from our ears, and that was no easy task.