We arrived early enough to catch St. Vincent doing their sound check, and settled in at a table near the stage. The group is essentially the project of Annie Clark, who’s received a lot of attention for her debut album, Marry Me, thanks to her previous work as a collaborator with Sufjan Stevens and as a guitarist with the rock opera/gospel choir/shambling mess that is the Polyphonic Spree. I’d heard enough of the new album to know why it was popular with that vaunted demographic Robert Pollard is always referring to – “the kids” – but the release just does not excite me at all. In all honesty, I was surprised to find out that St. Vincent was billed as the headliner tonight, with Scout Niblett in support. Again, it’s who’s got the high profile with the kids . . . even if the kids aren’t always right.

The old people have to work early in the morning, so being there for the first act, as was the case last night, has its benefits. Admittedly, a lot of Scout Niblett’s recent work has slipped past my radar, but beginning with her debut on a split 7″ with Songs Ohia (and her continued work with Jason Molina on Magnolia Electric Company), the following releases for Secretly Canadian, her contribution of “Trudy Dies” to the Will Oldham tribute I am a Cold Rock, I am Dull Grass and her inclusion on Devendra Banhart’s Golden Apples of the Sun compilation, she’s always been worth catching up with when the opportunity presents itself.

After a quick set up and sound check for herself and her accompanying drummer, Niblett took the stage. The early crowd, comprised mainly of younger women and the boys on their arms, huddled around the stage unsure of what to expect. There had been an audible buzz in the room in anticipation for the night’s headliner, and it was apparent that most were unfamiliar with the opener. Niblett exuded confidence in her draping white blouse and knee-length skirt, and with the first few strums of her electric guitar, my own preconceptions of her as a folkish singer/songwriter were destroyed.

What followed was a thirty-minute set of sludge-blues rawk belted out with such force and power that Stephanie and I immediately started throwing out names like Babes in Toyland, Heart, the better parts of Veruca Salt’s American Thighs album, and most prominently Black Sabbath. Yeah, Black Sabbath - think the burned groove of “Faeries Wear Boots” and you’ll get a good idea of how this set went down. The performance would have probably been better suited for some of the seedier barbecue-and-blues joints around town, but half-way into her first song, the front of the stage began filling up, and the enthusiastic applause which greeted the end of the opening track showed right away that Niblett had converted the crowd. Between-song conversation was held to a minimal “Thank you”, each receiving more enthusiasm than the one before it. Her set came to an end almost abruptly, within no one really sure she was done until she politely refused to play any more after girl in the front row urged her on. It took a few seconds, but the crowd launched into applause once again as the guitarist and drummer broke down and loaded off stage.

A few minutes after Stephanie came back with a copy of Niblett’s 2005 release Kidnapped by Neptune (on Steve Abini-produced double vinyl and purchased straight out of Niblett’s tour van no less!), St. Vincent took the stage. The songs moved from quirky indie rock to a keyboard-led midtempo ballad to a tropicalia-leaning number without showing much of either resistance or propulsion. Indie-rock Lite, as it were, and I’m not sure the young crowd gathered on hand were buying into it as much as they’d hoped they would.

While Clark and her band members seemed to be technically proficient musicians, their set seemed wooden and forced, almost a product of day-job expectation. Granted, following a set like Scout Niblett’s can be tough, and no matter how much we in this city may appreciate the Record Bar’s continually forward-thinking booking practices, Kansas City itself is not the most inspiring place to play for a touring act, especially when you’ve had the taste of success Clark has had with her involvement in other projects.

I do think Clark’s voice and expressions sound better and more direct in the live setting than they did on the record, and that went a long way towards making the three or four songs we stayed for tolerable. When faced with indie-pop, I have to try to delineate between sugary (good fun) and saccharine (a health risk) and I can accept some cross-over, but it wasn’t going to occur here. Going in with my own low expectations for this otherwise up-and-coming act gave them plenty of room to prove me wrong – something I cherish more than when a band I’m already sold on impresses me. For tonight, St Vincent was relegated to closer on the bill, with the thunderous Scout Niblett set, as brief as it was, being the highlight of the evening.