“Matt, I wanted you to meet Maya. Maya Matt, reverse, there you go. You two should get to know each other. Maya is an awesome band manager. And Matt rocks, he’s a great drummer and he’s”—I’m already saying what I planned to say when I realize how he’s going to take it—“like the brother I never had.”

Maya flashes a smile at me. Matt on the other hand, is beet red and not smiling. “Hey,” he manages politely.

Ah, crap. It’s a look that makes me feel bad about the brother comment. But maybe it’s necessary to train his puppy-dog love on someone else.

I help the two start up a conversation, and it’s just starting to go somewhere, but then there’s a whine of feedback from the stage.

“What up what up,” Alejandro intones into the mic. “We are the Freak Show, Freak Show . . .” He looms over the edge of the stage, his voice deep and sinister. All around us, people’s heads turn.

The band has been reinvented in black outfits. Lane starts thumping quarter notes on the kick drum, in a loping, heavy rhythm, like the perfect tempo to sway hips. All at once Alejandro, Trevor, and Cybil jump up in the air, landing in unison and crushing the first chord of their song.

The entire party begins to stir. Beside the stage I see Val, Jon, and Caleb snap to attention.

Freak Show bobs, their heads lunging up and down. They play a unison riff, fibrous with guitar crunch and drum throb and bass punch. It lumbers along like some kind of dragon on thick reptilian legs, undulating, wrapping everyone in its grip.

Fear what you won’t understand


Fall under Freak Show’s command

Alejandro’s delivery is part singing, part spoken word, and completely commanding. The groove is undeniably infectious. It strikes me as a little too harsh, but it’s doing a number on the party. Kids are rushing up to the front of the stage, to listen, to dance, but also to thrash. Their fast-forming crowd seethes and once the space becomes tight they start to throw themselves around. There is a free, fluid movement around the edges, but in the middle, delirious bodies slam into one another.

The songs ends and there is a huge cheer. Their second song begins like a sprint, upping the ante, the pulse and danger. It races like a car out of control on a cliff-side highway. The crowd grows bigger.

This is when you understand


We’ve got the power in our hands

Alejandro starts rhythmically jumping. The crowd joins him. Even in the soft sand you can feel the thumping of all the feet joining in.

By the third song, it has become clear that Freak Show is for real. And I can see Caleb watching them from beside the stage, knowing it, too. Not like this is a competition, except that between bands and egos, it always is. I hope he doesn’t let it rattle his nerves further.

Freak Show goes and goes, and their last song runs long. I keep checking my watch, and I can see Jon doing the same beside the stage, but there’s nothing to be done. They’ve created a frenzy out front, and everybody wants them to keep going. They pound on, looping their final dramatic groove over and over. The center of the crowd is a violent frenzy. A kid walks by me with blood dripping from his zinc-coated nose, eyes glazed, his girlfriend guiding him out of the fray.

Freak Show out.

Alejandro slams the mic down on the stage and the band abruptly but expertly halts and then walks right off. The crowd explodes, cheering on and on.

“Well,” says Matt, sounding queasy, “time to go set up.” I watch him slink up to the stage and start moving his drums into place.

Amidst the continued shouting, Alejandro returns to the mic and says, “Thank you. I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go try that lava pit, if anyone wants to join me.”

Some of the crowd was already scattering anyway in the aftershock of that set, but now there is a huge movement of kids toward the lava and I can’t help but wonder if that was an intentional move by Freak Show, to sabotage Dangerheart’s set. Either way: not cool.

By the time Dangerheart has set up, the area in front of the stage is only sparsely populated. I see Caleb seeing this as he’s tuning. I hope it’s not getting to him. Then he moves over to Val and talks into her ear. She cocks her head, looking angry, though with Val it’s hard to tell. Caleb goes on to Jon and then Matt, telling them something, then he returns to the mic.

“Hi, we’re Dangerheart,” he says to scattered applause. I can hear the sudden lack of confidence in his voice. I know he’s reading the vibe right now. Having to perform in the aftermath isn’t easy. And he was already off from the ghosts in this place. Come on, Caleb, just do your thing. The move here is to not care. To just do your thing and eventually the crowd will come around. . . . “This first song is called ‘Exit Strategy.’”

Wait . . . I check the set list on my phone. The first song was supposed to be “Knew You Before,” but instead Caleb has called the band’s fastest, most rocking song to be first. He’s feeling pressure to match Freak Show’s energy level. But that’s not going to be possible. Not in the same way, anyway.

Still, this song is a good one. Matt’s beat bounds along and Jon plays a high slide guitar part over Val’s speedy bass line. When Caleb sings, it’s on the edgier side of his range.

Do you see me wondering


Where you went, and what I’m gonna do


And I can’t take it anymore


Chasing ghosts, just trying to find you

He doesn’t sound warmed up; this is a tough song to do cold, and yet, I look around and see that some heads are turning. This could still work. But I can also tell that Caleb is pushing, singing with extra grit, chunking on his guitar like he’s trying to break it. It makes him sloppy, and I see Val glancing over at him. She can tell, too.

The song ends and there is scattered applause.

“More Freak Show!” someone shouts, drunk. And why is it like a universal constant that there must be at least one stupid heckler in every crowd? His comment causes a ripple of snickers.

Shake it off, I think, watching Caleb. He’s tuning again, head down. I want him to smile, to make a joke with the crowd, to be the easy version of himself that I’ve glimpsed now and then, but he just looks to Val who nods and they start the second song. It’s “Knew You Before,” back to the plan . . .

Caleb is still pressing, and Matt is playing harder than normal, too. At one point he drops a stick and fumbles for another. Caleb shoots him a glare. That’s not good either. Never acknowledge the mistakes. The audience barely ever notices the mistakes, unless the band calls attention to them, but they can always sense when a band is frustrated with one another, and it can be poisonous.

But all that said, they nail the song. And the crowd notices. Next they go into “Chem Lab,” and finally, now they are sounding like the band I love. Sharp, upbeat, the song really turns heads. Some bodies start to dance. They end to real applause. More people return to the stage.

They start “Catch Me,” and Val brings it. I’m glad for her right now. She’s not pressing or changing her approach; pissed and on a mission is her default setting. By the time the three songs are done, that one drunk heckler (who still won’t leave), has been nearly drowned out. It’s going over well. Caleb must see that—

Except then I see him going over to Val again. I check the set list. “On My Sleeve” is supposed to be next. Uh-oh. Val starts shaking her head emphatically, Matt is shrugging . . .

Caleb returns to the mic. He glances over at Val. I hear him say, just picked up by the mic, “Come on, let’s just do it?”

She shakes her head. Oh, Caleb, breaking so many rules of the stage right now. Because if I can feel the indecision, the crowd can, too.

Caleb turns back to the mic and says, “This song is called ‘Soundtrack to a Breakdown.’”

Wait, what? They’ve only rehearsed this song maybe twice with Val. It wasn’t even supposed to be in the set, but Caleb starts to play it. The first verse is just him, fast acoustic strumming with low, seething vocals that sound right on the edge of losing your mind. I see the band looking around at one another, Val to Jon to Matt, and their gazes are easy to read: Caleb has clearly started without their agreement. But if they don’t join in, they’ll leave him out to dry and the set with be ruined. Dammit, Caleb!

I did not expect this from him. And I can see the rest of the band trying to decide. To go with Caleb is to let him get away with a power trip, or a freak out, whatever this is. But to not go with him is to sink the gig. I flash all the way back to the first day of school, when I wondered if if he was a head case or just going through a tough time. Maybe I was wrong.

Just as Caleb gets to the end of the verse, Matt clicks his sticks and the rest of the band jumps in for the chorus.

This is all moving around me


This is all second nature to you


I hang on tight against the wind


I count on you to pull me through

Man, I wish they were playing “On My Sleeve” right now. This isn’t bad, though. Unpolished, but raw can be good.

Except after another verse and chorus, the song hits a solo section, and while Jon begins to climb high in the atmosphere, Caleb starts jumping up and down, emphasizing the beats of his rhythm line. Too much though: his shoulder slams into his mic stand. There is a moment of slow time as the stand teeters, and then it crashes over, causing a huge booming pop as the mic hits the stage. Everyone is thrown off.