Let's see. It must have been a Thursday, because I left work and walked the blocks up to Minibar. I know I stopped at the gas station for a fifty-cent bag of peanuts that would be my dinner. I recall that my back was already sore, so I popped an Advil. You ever go to a show and are exhausted before even walking into the club? Hold that thought – it's time for the first band.

It began slowly with Bobcat Attack. The transition from pre-show music to Nathan Reusch's unassuming ambient techno was gradual. Pieces began with sparse beats slowly embellished with layers of house synth hits, noise, and percussion, guiding each idea toward its maximalist fruition. Short dialogue samples were added throughout the entirely improvised forty-minute set, sometimes to serve as a cleanser between musical whims, and sometimes to punctuate those already in bloom. Reusch made his art silently and without flourish, from a chair where he fiddled with his modular synths and sample pad to release pounding beats at mid-tempos. Many cuts would have been at home in a sweaty club, but it was only 8pm on a weeknight, and the room wasn't ready to let loose. The still-arriving audience was polite – even appreciative – but they weren't coming for the electronic discotheque that this project was seemingly built for. Near the end of the set Reusch addressed the crowd for the first time, plugging his merch including a just-released cassette. A home stereo doesn't seem like the right medium for Bobcat Attack either, but I suppose that's for audiences to figure out. Build it and they will come?

A new duo-version of Redder Moon followed. The band is fronted by Jeremiah James, who writes and records the act's material. Live, he provided vocals, post-punk guitar, and managed the backing tracks. Recent addition (and cousin) Sergio Anthony Gonzales provided bass. Gonzales' presence was revelatory. Atmosphere is key to the project and melodic bass lines carry much of that power. Certainly they could come from the same backing tracks that also provided moody synths and darkwave percussion, but the addition of Gonzales brought needed harrumph to the band's "1st Wave" soundtrack. It was post punk, but not goth. It was new wave, but not bright or kitschy. Maybe audiences hear the dark, textured pop of A Flock of Seagulls. Or maybe they focused on James's smooth and strong vocals. He sounded particularly potent on "No One Lives Forever" (one of the set's oldest tunes). James addressed the crowd midway through the set, offering, "Alright, enough of that sad shit… this is a dance song." It wasn't. It was more of a sway-and-vibe song like most of the set. But the sway of the tunes felt good, the custom lights shone well, and the "executive goth" stage costumes worn by the duo brought it all together. The band is currently touring the US to promote its latest LP. Catch this current incarnation if you can.

It was just after 9:00 when Immortal Girlfriend took the stage. The Milwaukee act is the creation of brothers William and Kevin Bush. Live, William handled vocals, lead synths, and triggers while Kevin's synth seemed to provide the foundational bass elements. Acoustic drums from Brian Dendy completed the live line-up. Dendy was also a hype man. Maybe too hype, going way over the top to pump up the crowd. The brothers were chatty, delivering sincere thanks that bristled with earnest positivity between songs. In some settings this might have felt almost toxic, but the brothers' passion for their art was contiguous and uplifting, even if the music itself was dark. Not goth dungeon dark, but certainly after-hours club dark. The group stood apart from others in the darkwave scene thanks largely to William's processed vocals. His auto-tuned and soulful delivery recalled everyone from The Veldt's Daniel Chavis to The Weeknd. Industrial elements even crept in from time to time to ensure those songs could never be confused with slick radio pop. All this played into a half-hour set that was fresh yet familiar, and foreboding yet friendly. Immortal Girlfriend are onto something.

There was a long delay as Dallas' Nite prepared to take the stage. My back started to hurt again. The project is the creation of another set of brothers – twins Myles Mendes (vox/guitar) and Kyle Mendes (bass/vox) – with additional support from a touring drummer, Brandon Cavitt. Synths and additional backing vocals came from pre-recorded tracks. It was slick. When the trio took the stage, Myles thanked the crowd, announcing that the show was sold out. Impressive. But Nite has an easy accessibility unseen by most bands Kosmic City promotes – less darkwave and synthpop, and more modern alt pop. Even the constant lyrical references to shadows and bones couldn't darken the set's pop sheen. It was '80s. It was New Wave. And it was just what the audience came for.

Well, most of them anyway. I moved to the back of the room after tiring of the duo's rehearsed and hackneyed banter built upon pandering shouts of "Let me hear you!" and "Kansas City!" Deep into the long fifteen-song set, one of the brothers asked the audience, "Have you ever heard of a band called The Cure?" I tried not to puke. The cover of "Burn" that followed was fine. The track that sounded like Gene Loves Jezebel was good. That one that made me think of She Wants Revenge was even okay. But when the group played an encore of Alice in Chains' "Would?" I knew I had reached my limit. Exhausted and unable to mask my disdain I slipped out as soon as the lights illuminated my path to the door. You ever go to a show so exhausted that you're unreasonably irritable?