The snow and ice were cleared just enough to allow the brave through. That meant invincible bands in thirty-year-old vans with bald tires could come to town, local punks in cars cheap enough to be abandoned atop snow drifts could come out, and I could hop the bus down to Sk8bar bundled in every coat I owned. Despite the cavernous qualities of the club, I remembered there were several cozy nooks furnished with upholstered armchairs. Suspecting that the published eight o'clock start time might be more optimistic than realistic, I picked a bus that would get me there early enough to commandeer one of those seats.

At not quite the published show time, Kool 100's de facto frontman John Larsen welcomed the audience, noting that it was his first time out of the house in a week. It was the same for me and I suspect many others who had the luxury of holing up when the storm hit. He then started the night off with some twangy cow punk. As usual, half of the songs in the set were instrumentals with Larsen's guitar, Sam Leimer's bass, and Ike Ah-Loe's small drumkit doing all the work. The band jams econo, balancing its musicality with muscularity and an intellectual wink. The threesome is known for breakneck speeds, but cold temperatures may have slowed the tempos. The ludicrous cuts were skipped, and the fast ones calmed. As a result, Larsen's guitar rang out a bit longer, revealing a link to The Dead Milkman that I'd not have otherwise suspected. I like you, Kool 100's; you're not like the other bands, here, in the trailer park. The cold also restricted the flow of patrons – Sk8bar was awfully empty. The trio performed admirably, but the energy loop was broken.

The night's sandwiched touring act was Foreign Suns from Fort Collins. A touring band out for a run of the Plains States in January?! That's just foolhardy. Over the course of a long forty-five-minute set, the duo delivered indie rock drawn from myriad stylistic influences. Early songs had a bar band feel with blues overtones. Guitarist Elio Navarro often used a looping pedal to set rhythms and add his own leads on top. Sometimes pre-recorded bass lines were summoned. Later in the set, his pedalboard gave his guitar fantastical new wave tones he used for twitchy leads. Drummer/vocalist Mike Jones added to the mood with tight disco rhythms that reveled in post-punk tension. Navarro dubbed that portion of the set as "the crazy part," then transitioned the set into ballads from the new record. This portion of the set shifted gradually, focusing instead on driving beats. When a sexy funk guitar was introduced at the very end, it created the perfect condition for the night's only dancer.

The show culminated with locals Killer City. Every time I see the band, I feel compelled to trace its history back to previous projects and note which members came from where. However, after performing for seven years, I suspect the project can stand on its own now. Drew Black fronts the act. His voice, his guitar, and I suspect, entirely his songs. Around him are lead guitarist Alex Yoffie, bassist Austin Safford, and drummer Zach Hodson. Backing vocalist Wendy Wray was unavailable. The set started slowly with hard rockin' numbers that might have come from any band at any bar. By the middle of the set the quartet had hit its stride. A reworking of "Tell City Man" and a strong version of "Black Eyed Girl" proved what the quartet could do. When Black's guitar growls and Yoffie's Fender sings its leads, it's a winning combination. I listened as Black pushed his vibrato-rich voice to the edge of cracking. It sounded good, but I wondered what it would sound like when pushed further. In closer "Burning Man" I found out and was all the better for it.

The show ended just before eleven o'clock, and my bus home was scheduled for eight minutes later. No time to waste. On my waddle to the bus stop, as my mustache froze and my boots sank into the grey piles of plowed snow, I thought about the bands that had braved the weather to give everyone a night out. Of course they're nuts, but they sure do make January bearable.