Last night at The Prophet Bar, it was clear the difference one fan can make. Destry, who was supposed to be headlining, had a car malfunction in Mississippi. And, unfortunately, thanks to social media, all their fans were informed, and few made it out to see Destry’s opening act Communipaw, who had made it all the way from New Jersey.

However, none of that mattered for the first band on stage, Summertime Knives, a group of maybe four sixteen year old boys who shared a laid back attitude and a slight potential. The lead singer seemed to care little about the fact that this was probably his first show with letting phrases like “we’re the…whatever” and “this one is…alright,” slip throughout their set. And even though they didn’t look old enough to even be let into the bar, their dedicated group of five or six “x” stamped fans out in the audience were ecstatic to see them on stage. Each and every one of them was clapping along, and during their song “Her” a bit of synchronized sidestepping broke out between three audience members.

Communipaw came on next, and because the few fans that were there had taken a seat during the band change, the stage was even emptier for Communipaw. Their sound is extremely soft, almost like John Mayer, and it is the type of band that makes you want to close your eyes and sway. However, regardless of what was happening on stage, the gyrating fans from the first band were back at it again collecting right in front of the band, bouncing around on their toes. There was one girl standing in front who gave out an enthusiastic “woo” each time the songs ended, unashamed however loud her single shout out echoed in the bar.

Soviet ended the night, subbing out for Destry’s spot. The last place I’d seen Soviet play was at The Loft, so this show was a bit more private, and I got to see how they reacted to a smaller crowd. As they tuned, turned up their amps, and checked their sound, the vibrations that were sent through my body immediately signaled that the sound was heading in a different direction. Again the crowd was scare but screams still came out of each audience member before the band even began.

I really got to see a different Soviet last night. Whether it was the fact that guitarist Richy Brown’s shoulder length hair wasn’t in a ponytail, and every time he swung it around on stage the music seemed to move differently. Or the way that Sam Dobbins seemed much more fluid last night. Before his posture was perfect and his arms were angled just right; last night his arms were up above his head, his head was banging and he was getting lost in between his cymbals. The one member of the band whom I expected the most of out seemed a bit more subdued. Lead singer John Spies wasn’t wiggling around on the floor like he was at The Loft, and he wasn’t stopping his songs to yell out profanities. Instead his more calm demeanor let me actually hear and enjoy their music more. Without one aspect of the show really standing out as a spectacle, it really let each element of the band flow together.