Watch : Magic Milk laying waste to Chicago's VFW hall.

Hopefully this didn't cause any terrible flashbacks for any of those swell veterans hanging out that night. The first time I saw Magic Milk was when Turbo Fruits played a now defunct basement space bathed in deep red light. A young kid got up to the mic in a leather jacket, slicked back hair, and giant sunglasses. He sort of looked like a glam era reject with a hint of Fonzie. It ended up being a highlight of the night, simple garage rock tunes sang with soul, a harmonica, and tubes of paper confetti. The band was Magic Milk., and they've since gone through a slew of drummers, now with Maggie Laleman of Tiny Manatee behind the kit. She's a good fit here, and I hope she sticks around.

Magic Milk's songs are simple, and there's a heavy display of frontman showmanship here from singer Kenneth Alden, but it's not empty shenanigans. There's a heart and soul in these songs, and they're played with a serious demeanor, despite some ridiculousness. Sure, there's confetti, a chant, and he's got sweatpants on! Sweatpants! How he went from that first day, to this, I'll never know. You could easily laugh it off as a schtick band if you weren't dancing your ass off at the end of the night, completely fucking sold on the whole thing. Oh, and whoever threw that giant condom filled pinata at us at 3:28, you suck. 'Twas a hell of a shot, though. Second camera by the wonderful Mark Ciarleglio.