Four bands is a lot for a Thursday night. And when packed, Hillsiders feels more claustrophobic than just about anywhere else in town. But when the weather is nice, and there is a fire in the pit out back, and the fairy lights are glowing, the bar's patio is one of the best places in the city. I could tell it was going to be one of those marvelous nights, so I decided I could face the big bill.

It was nearly 8:30 when local quartet Blue Horses of Madness started the show. The group is new, though Brad Highnam (vocals/guitar), Kenia Balquier (rhythm guitar), Dan Ohm (bass), and Dillon Joeckel (drums) seem to be playing frequently to make up for lost time. While several of those names are familiar to me, it was my first time seeing the act. That sent my analytical brain into overdrive. I determined that the first song's bouncing bass runs recalled "Having an Average Weekend," and the second used a guitar riff not far from "Proud Mary." And then I calmed down and began to appreciate Blue Horses of Madness' actual vibe. It's surely an indie rock band – one more measured than emphatic – with psychedelic country rock flavoring. Joeckel's drumming relied mostly on the tribal floor tom, creating hypnotic foundations for the act. Ohm occasionally joined in the trance offering strummed chords to build the mood. Highnam's vocals were too low in the mix to provide much of an impression, but his guitar solo in the finale was an emotive and bluesy ripper that was sent careening by a Bigsby vibrato. By the end of the band's 30-minute set I hadn't put all the pieces together, but I knew I liked whatever it was.

As expected, Hillsiders was crowded. The small stage stretches nearly to the bar, leaving only a thin strip for patrons ordering drinks, watching the bands, or moving to the back patio. Naturally, the patio was the place to be. I sat out there between acts, catching up with friends, overhearing literal fish stories, enjoying the cooling air, inhaling the smell of burning wood, and cherishing that I wasn't in anyone's way. Then it was time for the next act.

The four members of The Creepy Jingles were just as crowded on the stage as the audience in front of it. The quartet is led by Jocelyn Nixon (vox/guitar/piano) with support from Wills Van Doorn (guitar), Andrew Woody (bass), and Nick Robertson (drums). I've seen the band before – many times before – but this twelve-song set featured almost entirely new material. Current single "Love Like You" came early in the set. It is a gem with just enough oomph to reach power-pop status. Another new one featured a hooky bass line that recalled Bruce Thomas' best work in The Attractions. Most of the psych elements of the act's early incarnation have drifted away and have been replaced with precise pop. Even the old songs now feel different. Van Doorn's solo in "Conundrum & Bass" was impressive. Nixon's scream in "Circadian Rhythm Guitar" was vicious. Through old and new, Robertson played airy lines that provided the buoyancy necessary in the band's short songs. Any drummer who rests a tambourine on their hi-hat is a-okay in my book. The quartet has been leaking singles all summer in preparation for an album that has been written and at least partially recorded. This preview set illustrated that the best is yet to come.

Although I will die on the hill that the best bands are local bands, I must confess that the touring sleazy garage punk and punk & roll acts that slide through Hillsiders always delight me. I'm not sure who to thank. Is it Zach? Rory? Kenneth? Anyway, thank you. And thank you for bringing in Timmy's Organism from Detroit. The group is fronted by the eponymous Timmy Lampinen. He's a haggard rocker that looked like he'd been on the road since 1975. He wore a sequined vest over a dirty t-shirt, and a bandana held back his balding blonde mullet. He was unshaven and ready to kick ass. As they used to say, "men wanted to be him, women wanted to be with him." Lampinen and his guitar were joined by Eric Altesleben on bass and Scott Dunkerley on drums. The trio started its planned eight-song set with "I'm on a Hunt." The track is fifteen years old, suggesting that Timmy's Organism wasn't out to sell records, it was out to slay audiences. The cut is a big-riff proto-punk rocker worthy of Detroit's legacy. Like most of the group's songs it also has a righteous rock & roll solo built on quick, bending notes. Dunkerley played clean lines, punctuated by rolling fills, while Altesleben kept his playing similarly simple, albeit buried under the most wonderfully fuzzy bass tone you’ve ever heard. Lampinen's raspy and raw vocals were backed by the rest of the trio. For some barflys, the fire pit on a cool night was more tempting than the touring band. Lampinen didn't like this and shouted at the outdoor crowd to "stop camping" and come inside. Sadly, after only five songs Lampinen's guitar rig crapped out and he ended the set. While a replacement amp was eventually found and dialed in, when the threesome finally returned to "Love is a Road of Dirt," Altesleben's bass had cut out. Lampinen was done. He tossed his guitar down and called it a night. Damn I hope they come back soon.

Once again, I slipped outside joining the campers between acts. I talked classic cars with someone three sheets to the wind, and troubled by the fuel flow rate into his four-barrel carb. He was surprised to hear there was still another band. Indeed, there was.

Wayne Pain & the Sh*t Stains took the stage somewhere on the other side of 11:30 and played the audience into Friday morning. While earlier acts hadn't much in common with each other, Wayne Pain and Timmy's Organism are brothers from a different mother – both are garage punk trios born very wrong. Vocalist/guitarist Kenneth Kupfer leads the band with help from rhythm section Isaac Ah-loe (bass) and Tyler James (drums). The threesome played a long, thirteen-song set that featured all the hits, including "F*ck Your Wife," "Nazi UFO," "I Get Drunk," "Shut Up I'm On the Phone" and more. The project started many years ago as a solo endeavor (I believe all the recordings you'll find online are Kupfer's work alone), though the current rhythm section adds a lot to the songs it has since reworked. Ah-loe is a nimble bassist with an ear for melody. He started the set wearing a glove on his fretting hand but tossed it off before a cover of "The Girl Can't Dance," originally recorded by Bunker Hill with Link Wray & His Raymen. James also lightened up during the set, unbuttoning his shirt entirely until it barely clung to his shoulders as he pounded the economical three-piece kit. While the duo add lipstick to the compositions, it's Kupfer's pugnacious guitar and freakout solos that sit at the heart of the band's sound. At least they usually do – on this night the amp he was using didn't have quiet the oomph audiences are used to. But when one door closes, another opens, and on this night Kupfer's voice wasn't buried in unintelligible reverb like it generally is. Not only did every hilariously transgressive lyric come through, but also every bit of his ribald stage banter – this is excellent news as his song introductions are half the reason for coming to a Wayne Pain gig. But Kupfer's antics were not all on microphone – he downed several beers during the set, including shotgunning one that I swear he opened with his teeth. After draining it, he threw it at the crowd. Seconds later someone prostrated themself to slurp up the dregs that had leaked from the can onto the floor. Y'all are nasty, and I like it. Later, that little beer piggy led a short-lived dance circle with three or four others. But it wasn't enough to impress Kupfer. After a final number, he announced that the crowd didn't deserve an encore and ended the night. Harsh but fair.

Much of the room retreated to the patio after the last set. As predicted, the weather was perfect, the fire cozy, and the lights appropriately magical, but after four bands my battery was drained. It was 2am by the time I slipped into my bed and that's plenty late for a Thursday night.