The brothers Meese and Co. played the album in its entirety. On stage it was no hitches and no offense: a little grooving here, a little rock and roll biting of the lower lip over there. And Patrick, the littlest teen heartthrob in the West, has pipes of chart gold. He's got all the moves now, the coy glance from the piano, the heightened eyebrows to convey his earnestness, the self-depreciating banter.
"How's it sound? Is it too loud?"
The crowd assured him that it was not. And what a crowd. Steadily filling the side room of the store were Denver residents of all stripes: flocks of hipsters and wannabes, a couple grizzled old bikers, some suburban families and a whole lot of teenage girls . All of them supportive, respectfully -- no one left the show hoarse, I suspect, but every song was met with robust applause and cheering.
After all this time it's no surprise how slick these guys are. The music is so shiny you could see your reflection in it, and I'm sure many of their fans do exactly that. It's the sort of stuff you can listen to in your room and imagine it to have been written to you specifically. The lyrics are just clever enough and the songs are all soaring harmonies on the chorus, sing-along vowels on the transitions and enough hooks to make Velcro. They've done their part to take that next step. And now, the album is out and all that's left for Meese to do is pound the road for a while and hope they can start a fire this summer.Congratulations, Meese. I hope you make millions.
