Get any three music fans together for ten minutes, and the topic will quickly turn to amazing shows that each saw in tiny venues. The Replacements at a VFW hall? Green Day at a community center? Nirvana in a basement? I agree that small venues are the best, but only when they're busy. An empty venue is depressing no matter its capacity – prepare for a sad tale.

Redder Moon took the stage at 8:15 as a two-piece consisting of Jeremiah James (vox/guitar) and Laura Boland (synth). The last time I wrote about the act, James was supported by a live bassist and drummer, but no keyboard player. Why the wild swing? Well, James explained that the live band would always be whatever he felt was best for a specific show. For this gig, he opted for a deep darkwave atmosphere, defined by cold programmed drums and muted electronic basslines, with live synth that delivered humming foundations, integral bass melodies, and sparkly adornments. I understand Boland was originally tapped to be the project's vocalist (check out her solo work as Elska), but on this night, only James got a microphone. His vocals were rounded and drenched in effects, with robotic autotune employed during one or two tracks. Between songs, his banter was lost in that same echo and reverb. An offstage production lit the stage with dim green and red floor lights synchronized with the music and then hid the duo with two overworked fog machines. While this incarnation of Redder Moon didn't have the energy of the fuller band, it was hard to know if the lineup or the vacant room was to blame.

Kansas City's Various Blonde have been around for fifteen years. It also has changed lineups when needed. Joshua Allen (vocals, guitar, synth) and Mark Lomas (drums) have been there from the start. Bassist Jason Nash has been with the act long enough to get inducted into the Hall of Fame with the rest of the band. But which one? The trio was rock – alternative rock, alternative electro rock – with a little sex and lots of swagger. What hall of fame is that? On this night Allen was full of tricks. His vocals were soulful and sensual. His wah wah pedal got lots of work and his guitar solos were pure wizardry. He even played short leads on a small synth. Most of the electronic sounds came from a backing track though. That's better anyway, as it freed him up for more dancing. Just when I thought I had seen all his moves, some sort of vocoder-like effect hit. Nash occasionally got funky, but even when his bass lines were played straight, they were played big. There wasn't much room for anything else after all that, so Lomas stuck to simple disco-punk beats that urged bodies toward action. Sadly, none took up the challenge, prompting Allen to remind the election-weary crowd the importance of having fun. That's normally not something Various Blonde fans need to be told – it had to be the room.

And then there was the touring band in the headlining slot on a weekday. Poor System Exclusive. I'm sure it's hard to play bright, synth-fueled new wave to only a dozen patrons, but frontwoman Ari Blaisdell stepped on stage undaunted. She began the set hanging from her microphone stand, offering her kittenish vocals that ranged from coos to yelps. Her stylish guitar offered a few jabs as well as melodic runs that were neither muscular nor ethereal, but rather a middle pop thing. At the back of the stage was drummer Matt Jones. Well, Matt Jones, his acoustic drums, a keyboard, and the contents of a 1980's Radio Shack assembled into what I suspect were analog synthesizers. The latter generated bleeps and sequences that augmented songs and filled the spaces between them. Something more modern (and no doubt less impressive) provided additional tracks. Blaisdell's vocals were dripped and draped around those unseen synths, while Jones paired with the disembodied bass tracks to deliver disco and post-punk rhythms crafted for dancers who failed to materialize. Luckily the set included cuts like "Click" – the title track from its new album. It was full of rich textures and intrigue, capable of captivating those who prefer to experience music with folded arms.

But a stationary crowd isn't always a disinterested one. When System Exclusive finished its short set, there were calls for an encore. The couple looked surprised and pleased by the validation, quickly offering up "Song with a Hangover." Blaisdell explained the song was not metaphorical, but about a real and particularly brutal "shameover." Setting her guitar aside for the first time that night, Blaisdell danced seductively about the stage, ending the night splayed on the floor in front of the kick drum emblazoned with the project's name.

While the gig ended on an energetic uptick, the small turnout never allowed the bands and audience to create a shared experience. It's that emprise in a small room that fans brag about years later. Seeing Daft Punk in a church rec room in 1995 with two friends would have been boring, seeing them there with 120 others bouncing off the walls would have been legendary. Minibar is a perfect venue for gigs worth bragging about, but you've got to show up before you can tell those stories.