If you squint, you can see the first signs of fall arriving in Kansas City. The back-to-school sales are over, it didn't even reach 80 degrees today, Spirit Halloweens are popping up everywhere, Rob and Julie put a 12" skeleton in their yard, and Kosmic City is hosting spooky performers non-stop. While the amateurs are still a month away from costume construction, the "Every Day is Halloween" crowd were already at Minibar living the nightmare.

The night began promptly at 8pm with New Obsessions – the duo version featuring vocalist/guitarist Jorge Arana and bassist brother Luis Arana. If you count the laptop, the band was a trio. Maybe the spotlights on the floor and the fog machines are members too. For three years Jorge has brought his complex post-punk to area stages. During those years audience have been treated to guitar lines that womble and teeter and yelp as one would expect from the jazzy Jorge. Bass and drums thump and limp. The rhythms are not danceable, but they're not not danceable either. The laptop spits out everything from synthesized washes to ornate harpsichord lines. On top of it all is Jorge's voice. His lyrics are gasped and ghostly, and more often than not, unintelligible. Still, over the years they’ve gotten more distinctive and on this night Jorge harnessed them better than I'd ever heard, arriving somewhere near the tortured delivery Robert Smith on Faith. Jona said the act sounded like a haunted house. Although there's no rattling chains or revving chainsaws, I think they'd be okay with that categorization. The project's visuals are equally as important. Jorge's face is pancaked white. His brows, eyes, and lips darkened. He's a sad clown. Around his neck was his trademark Elizabethan ruff. Luis was hidden under his usual beaked bird mask, though he wore a neck covering for this set, allowing him to be cloaked in black from head to toe. He made the most of his wireless rig, spinning on stage, and occasionally into the audience while white lights pulsed under the command of an offstage ally. Is that a sixth member? New Obsessions' 35-minute set featured each of its three digital singles, teasing an album that can't be too far off – especially since sister-project Jorge Arana Trio has just released a four-song EP.

There was a 25-minute gap between acts to allow the fog to dissipate as well as equipment to ebb and flow from the stage. The room had filled up nicely. Boots, corsets, and distressed hosiery were all well represented. Minibar is drawing all the right fiends.

It's been three months since Reviser debuted on the Minibar stage. Since that show, the group has shed synth player Tommy Romero and is now forging ahead as a duo consisting of Krysztof Nemeth (vocals/baritone) and Dedric Moore (guitar/vocals). Oddly enough, this is the same duo that performed as Static Phantoms not that many months ago. But Reviser does represent a shift from that earlier project; it's a darker band, and a better one. Nemeth started the show by pressing a button on an offstage laptop releasing a foundation of gloomy yet danceable drums, bass, and synths. That cold palette was warmed (ever so slightly) by the notey, effects-drenched leads from Nemeth's baritone guitar. Moore deftly wove his adornments between the baritone and the synths adding even more light to the compositions. First single "Burn It Out" played into that, lovingly recalling the pop elements of early Gene Loves Jezebel – just without the occasional soaring vocals. Instead, Nemeth opted to keep his vocals low, pleasingly steady, and filtered through a wall of reverb and other effects. Moore added his backing vocals through a similar processor. The backing vocals added some velvet to the compositions, allowing Reviser's dark wave to be simultaneously alluring and dangerous. Why can't I get Kiefer Sutherland's David from The Lost Boys out of my head now? Was he at the show?

The night hit its apex with Seattle's Nox Novacula. I had no expectations of the quartet, though I decided that seeing Rob (once Guy Slimey of Witch Jail) in the crowd was a good omen. The foursome is fronted by vocalist Charlotte Blythe. She was a beautiful mess of chains, ripped tights and tattoos. Matching her charisma were pitch perfect vocals that balanced the savage with the ethereal, and a boundless energy that took her to all corners of the small stage and into the audience. To her left was guitarist Zu Leika and her delightfully twanging hollowbody guitar. Their chemistry was a highlight. Bassist Dav Tafoya teamed with acoustic drummer Ezra Bolotin to provide propulsive rhythms for dancing or acts of late-night vandalism. Or both. Tafoya was also tasked with triggering the synthesizer that provided accents and introductory bedding for many of the songs. A few synth-heavy songs hinted at new wave adoration (think early Ministry) but most of the 40-minute punched much harder, landing firmly in the death rock camp. The band ended the night with "Flood" from the just-released Feed the Fire. Eight of the ten songs played would come from that album. Only two older tracks ("The Path" and "Pray for Sleep") made the cut otherwise. The former got an aggressive retelling that was much improved from the version that appeared on the act's debut 2018 cassette, elevating it to match the gusto and abandon that defined the exhilerating set.

As is always my instinct, I scattered quickly after the final song. I'm not sure why. The Minibar certainly doesn't turn on lights after the last band. Can you imagine the hissing if it did? Nevertheless, I stuck around only long enough to pack my camera, to sheepishly thank Blythe who was busily signing records for fans, and to wave a familiar farewell to the local acts. After that it was out into the cool night whereupon I promptly began pondering when cloak season begins.