There was a concert last night. Now, 15 hours later, the boys from Kill Hannah have already slithered offstage to greet their adoring fans, to speed to their afterparties, to drink in celebration of yet another successful Metro show. Just one night out of the thousands of their lives.

Everyone was there; the moshers, the rednecks, the valleygirls experimenting in the new medium of liquid eyeliner, the freestyle walkers tripping over themselves, crying girls, drunks, strangers, the stranger-stills, kids so eaten up with excitement that they could barely see straight. There we were, a somewhat sloppy mixture of Generation X trickling into Generation Y, staring at each other, feeling no particular desire to bridge the rather obvious age gap.

We were all there for the same reason. I believe the term I used before was "musical inertia"-- that jolt we all felt (most of us, anyway) when the Pumpkins broke up. Billy announced the breakup of the band one year ago Wednesday. Maybe it's not entirely accurate to attribute the success of one band to the breakup of another, but I think it's an issue in this case. Most of us are recovering alterna-kids with nowhere else to go after the bottom dropped out. Some of us have supported KH for several years. Some of us found KH just as SP was starting to dissolve. We had to jump ship before it sank....and landed on Kill Hannah. Some of us were left stranded until they discovered this new sound of "the nü-Pumpkins". No matter how we all got here, we have arrived somewhat disoriented but aching for an escape from post-rock hell. There is no Creed in Kill Hannah. You will not find Fuel listing KH as an influence anytime soon.

So there we all were, some of us nervously feeling our hearts beating through our stomachs as the lights turned out and smoke swirled around us. Giggly girls did what they did best. Roughly a thousand kids stared up in bemused wonder at the thong hanging on the mic stand. Somehow this weak excuse for clothing stood above us as though the stage was an alter, mockingly swaying in the breeze of the fans overhead. To be honest, I'm frightened at the concept of girls overcoming sudden jolts of jealousy at this scene, but you hear a lot of interesting things in the crowds.

Finally, the band came on. The adrenaline started flowing, sadly causing a testosterone-twinged mosh pit. Why? People rushed the stage. Why? The cynicists will laugh out loud and tell you that they're a bunch of trendy teenyboppers. "My Gawd, it's not like it's Trent Reznor!" (Remember to make the sign of the cross right about...........here.)

They played on and as though carefully scripted, the beautiful imagery unfolded like a storybook. The boys stared hopefully up into the stagelights that acted as their purple and orange makeshift stars of the evening. The lights reflected off the glitter around their eyes, casting a heavenly glow on their otherwise pallid faces. It felt like an inside joke. It was a thousand kids against the world. All of us were in that room, sharing in something no one else could see.

Where have all our low points gone? For a minute, even the major disturbances of my life went on hiatus just long enough for me to enjoy the music. Many of you have had your dark nights. It's the kind of helpless feeling where you're on the floor staring up at the ceiling, counting the tiles and noting the cracks, making yourself stay strong, pretending with every grain of your being that you're still having fun in your life. But last night, the concept of such beautiful music erased it for an hour.

The whole show was just wonderful. I'd been having a semi-crummy night up until they took the stage. Let's not lie and say everything is always wonderful. The only way I can describe Kill Hannah shows to those who have never seen them is "a constant religious experience." I've seen them 7 times in 10 months and every time feels like the first. Are they getting better, or is the momentum building? I've been wondering this for some time now. It's become very apparent that the "legion of fans" spoken about in the official site's new bio is made up of somewhat rabid people that seem to bring more and more friends every show. Has it always been this way, or is something big coming?

This is always a painful question that makes me read deeper into the situation. Kids come and promote the band just so that the boys can make it big. When KH does indeed make it big, who will be the first to leave? The current legion of Moderns. "They sold out!! They suck! Fred Durst was right, let's go." No one can deny it because we see it happening now. I'm so tired of hearing it. People are always whining about the status of too many bubbly little girls running around at shows. I've done my fair share of whining on the subject, but this is in no way a reflection of the band. The "old-schoolers" casually reflect on the recording quality of "Glacier" just loud enough for Boy X, who has been brought into the crowd by "Crybaby", to hear. Old school. Dating all the way back to good old 1997.

If KH makes it big, I suppose, we'll all be left again just like with the Pumpkins. Yet another painful demand to look into motives. Are we into the music for the music's sake, or because we know the band will always be there?

What happened to the small following of Smashing Pumpkins fans back when SP got signed? They went off to the suburbs and led normal lives, telling all their children's friends about how they used to work with the almighty Billy Corgan's mother, how they know people who used to stand next to D'arcy in line at Metro shows. Will we be clinging to the slightest detail? Personally, I'm not looking forward to being left again and having to recount things so my life stays interesting.

There's a girl floating around the scene somewhere that recently started the discussion that in all seriousness, if Kill Hannah ever left her, she'd feel no outstanding desire to live anymore. She meant it in the most literal sense of taking her own life, but I think we can all relate on a musical level. What else is there to listen to? These boys dancing on stage sucked our anxiety out and gave us the precious calm of appeasement. If they went off to L.A. and became MTV's golden boys, how do we cope with being left a second time? The fear of selfishness and the result of holding back the success of KH's progression makes the question, the very idea, a taboo that no one dares to ask in fear of looking just that: selfish.

This all passed through my brain as I watched KH play. I want to know how long it will last. I want to know how such a faithful group of people can be so perceptive and utterly confused at the same time. I don't want to be doomed to be the background of a successful band.