John Wesley Harding and his glowing eyes. Robyn Hitchcock sends one into the stands. "Party on, Robyn?" "Party on, Kim." Gruber. Hans Gruber.

On this particular evening, the entertainment began well before the bands took the stage.

We were lucky enough to score a prime spot in the "Press and Other People We Want to Treat Nicely" balcony area -- a table on the edge of the balcony with perfect, completely unobstructed sight lines. This doesn't happen very often, and is usually a good omen.

As it happens, we were also directly in front of the tables reserved for Greg Kot and Jim DeRogatis, rock critics for, respectively, the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times (the city's two big newspapers). This allowed us first to witness the spectacle of two drunk guys attempting to steal Kot's table, then settling on the other side of DeRogatis and pestering him for the next half-hour or so with conversational overtures and autograph requests. It was quite entertaining, in a "you had to be there and know something about the people in question" sort of way.

Opener John Wesley Harding wasted no time in kicking things into high gear. A gifted songwriter and performer, Harding really ought to be headlining shows of this size. I'm not sure how widespread fame has eluded him, but I hope his next record proves to be a breakthrough. Playing an abbreviated set culled largely from the recent Confessions of St. Ace, Harding proved to be a perfect opening act for the Soft Boys: charming, intelligent, witty and self-effacing, with dead-solid rock 'n' roll chops behind his brainy lyrics. With gems like "Goth Girl", "Bad Dream Baby" and "I'm Wrong About Everything" in his arsenal, he left high expectations for The Soft Boys. I imagine he sold a lot of CDs, too.

The Soft Boys seemed to feel that after waiting twenty-plus years, their fans wouldn't mind sitting tight for another hour. After an extended wait, Messrs. Hitchcock, Rew, Seligman and Windsor took the stage amidst much cheering, celebration and batting-about of balloons with song titles written on them. The crowd was packed into the venue like sardines, but there was none of the pushing, shoving and general disharmony that characterizes a typical punk rock show; this was an enthusiastic, respectful and mature audience, a fact made abundantly clear by the bouncers' decision not to block the entrance to the photo pit. "They're adults," I heard one of them say to another shortly before the Soft Boys came on stage. "They know they're not supposed to go back there." As much as I appreciate the feverish, riotous intensity of an all-ages show, this was a nice change.

Opening with "You'll Have to Go Sideways", the band looked more at ease than they were when last I saw them. Then freshly reunited, the Soft Boys had seemed lost on the cavernous stage of the jet-hangar-sized Austin Music Hall, their performance halted by technical glitches. Given a more intimate venue and a couple of weeks to get used to each other again, they were a lot tighter. Only Hitchcock seemed a little crabby, his typically arch banter less chatty than usual, his expressive features often slipping into a sneer of Alan Rickmanesque distaste. Could he possibly not be enjoying this reunion?

It seemed unlikely. Guitarist Kimberly Rew, bobbing his head and upper body like a mop-topped muppet and gurning like a living embodiment of Garth from Wayne's World, is the best musical foil Hitchcock has ever had. Rew's energetic riffing seems to set off a competitive spark in Robyn, and the pair's six-stringed exchanges rock far harder than anything Hitchcock has done in the last few years. It's pleasing to see that the man still has the requisite chops, even if they come at the cost of his between-song conversation. Meanwhile, bassist Matthew Seligman maintained a look of relaxed concentration, while drummer/backing vocalist Morris Windsor seemed delighted by the whole affair. It looked, in short, like they were all having a marvelous time.

After dishing up "The Queen of Eyes" and a particularly spirited rendition of "He's a Reptile", the Soft Boys pulled out one of their favorite covers -- a faithful version of the Byrds' "The Bells of Rhymney". The riff-intensive "Old Pervert", a perfect guitar duel for Hitchcock and Rew, and "Kingdom of Love" followed. It's at this point that the band unleashed "I Wanna Destroy You", and the crowd, most of whom had been waiting patiently for it, went as mad as this sort of sedate crowd ever goes, dancing and jumping and generally being delighted.

There were new songs in the set, too -- apparently the Soft Boys wanted to do more than just play the same-old same old, opting to surprise even their oldest fans. It's hard to assess these tracks amidst the jumble of favorites and covers, beyond saying that everything sounded great.

"Leppo and the Jooves", from Can of Bees, went down well. So did "Underwater Moonlight". The band closed the set with "Insanely Jealous", though it was blatantly obvious that we'd see them back in a few minutes.

The Soft Boys' first encore launched with "Human Music", then proceeds to (if I'm not mistaken) another live set staple, Syd Barrett's "Astronomy Domine". "Mystery Train" went over well, but it became obvious that the band had no big finish in mind.

A second encore provided the big finish in the form of "Rock and Roll Toilet". Clearly encouraged by the crowd's strong response to that anthemic tune, Hitchcock and co. found the strength to deliver a couple of additional songs. Frankly, they shouldn't have. It's ironic that a band like the Soft Boys should turn a blind eye to brevity; giving the people what they want is important, but so is knowing when to stop.

Do I even need to encourage you to see the Soft Boys if and when they come to your town? I hope not. Normally I'm vehemently against reunion tours, but I'll make an exception here...even though I have a strong suspicion that this tour is going to result in a new Soft Boys record for Matador...

Article and photos by George Zahora.