Asthmatic, near-sighted, bookish and shy, my teenage self owes a huge debt to rock. Before rock worked its changes on me, I didn’t like people very much. The "good kid my parents leaned on during the years after their divorce, I was a junior high misanthrope, unable to function socially and nursing my wounds because I believed they made me stronger. No one knew what I’d been through, so fuck ‘em and their cliques and the ease with which they seemed to manage the world.

Of course I was not unique in my experience, and rock and roll taught me that. It gave me a way to fit in, and it gave me permission to try things I’d never tried before--like making that phone call and facing the (what seemed inevitable) rejection of a girl. Rock’s lifeline has stayed right there for me, and more than anything else I think its guidance has insisted on one truth--what I have in common with others is enough to transcend almost anything that separates us. And rock speaks this truth more forcefully than any other art form because it is the most democratic of forms, frowned on by elites and the soundtrack of everyone else’s lives.

That’s why I hate the fragmentation of today’s radio so much that I really don’t listen to it unless someone else turns it on. This means I often ask embarrassing (for a music writer) questions like, "who’s this? and get back weird looks with the all-too-obvious reply, "Third Eye Blind?! Where the hell have you been?!

Well, I haven’t been listening to Third Eye Blind; nothing against them; I just can’t take listening to a radio station that insists on every song being alternative yet not abrasive . . . or alternative, abrasive and lily white . . . or r&b with only lightweight rap . . . or only current Nashville . . . or music that’s all twenty years old, or ten . . . . Today’s radio says the opposite of what rock taught me--music cannot transcend any barriers--of education, of class, of race or even gender. My favorite releases of this year included, in no particular order, our own Mike Ireland’s solo debut, the two Exit 159 releases, 50 MC’s, N’Dea Davenport, Howard Iceberg, The Glitter Kicks, Jim Roll, Ghostt, Ozomatli, Brandy, Madonna, Lauryn Hill, Outkast, Jeff Black, Eightball, Soul Asylum, C-Murder, Michael Fracasso, Bruce Springsteen’s four CD compilation, Sacrifice Isaac, Korn and the Creature Comforts. If I had spent more time with them, I am sure that list would also include this year’s Ani DiFranco, Metallica and the Goodie Mob (I think Cee-Lo may be rapper of the year). What station plays that mix?

A third of those albums are local releases. Maybe that’s why the past couple of years of covering local music have given me a different perspective than most other people I hear talking about the area scene. While many complain about how lame the scene is (including the most prominent "champion" of "alternative" music I can think of, a number of musicians and almost the entire music staff of the most widely-read weekly), I find it more exciting than it’s been in the 12 years I’ve lived in the Kansas City area. Live bands like Boot Hill, Sandoval, Blackwater, Hadacol, and, yes, Howard Iceberg, Mike Ireland, Exit 159 and the Glitter Kicks simply kick the ass of the generic post-punk bands that have dominated the local and national club scene for so long.

My taste is my taste, and I hope no one takes offense because of who I’ve left off the list. (I’ve already been told that I need to unplug my ears because Load, Point, Pull is the best band in town. I’m sorry to say I still haven’t heard/seen them). But my point is to be as honest as I know how to be and to see what truth emerges from that honesty.

In all honesty, 1998 was, for me more than anything else, the first full year of the rest of our lives with Exit 159--a simply wonderful rock band that has done nothing but grow stronger since I first saw them in Davey’s Uptown about a year and a half ago. One night, drinking too much and lacking focus, the band disappointed me--and some friends I had dragged out to the show were also nonplused. But every other one of the over 20 times I have seen the band, it has been on a steady growth curve, becoming more powerful with each performance--rising to a level I wouldn’t dream of speculating on just yet. I think there’s nowhere this band can’t go, and I hope they believe that too.

I’ve written about Exit a number of times now, so I hate to repeat the reasons I love them ad nauseum. Kristie Stremel’s songwriting thinks big, like the greatest rock songwriting does, while it hones in on the little things, and it grows increasingly vital with its gorgeously crafted and irresistibly singable melodies. Rob Van Biber has been the rock of this band for a long time. His drumming is versatile, subtle and explosive, and as seemingly the band’s biggest fan, his spirit is ebullient and irreplaceable. Byron Huhmann stepped into some well-loved shoes when he took over Jamey Wheeler’s unique role as a bassist, and he had not only managed to hang onto the beautiful bass parts that made Wheeler’s contribution so valuable, but he has also added a thickened crunch to the band’s sound--that grows more and more devastating with each performance. Now, Huhmann’s added contribution of keyboards to the mix suggests Exit’s horizons may widen exponentially overnight.

Kristie is certainly writing the songs to take advantage of this growth. Both "Two" and "Hey/Hay" have become crowd favorites as passionate singalongs despite being relatively recent additions to the set. And brand new songs like the rockin’ "Everyone’s Obsession," the soulful "Can’t Wait" and the simmering "Push Pull" seem completely free of any sense of limits for the band’s voice. It is rare that a band has such a consistent unified sound and still manages to find endlessly rewarding possibilities within its reach.

But that is what I find most exciting about Exit 159. People may compare Kristie’s strong lead presence to, most appropriately, Chrissie Hynde or Joan Jett and, to a lesser extent, Melissa Etheridge. But that is simply because we know those women as rockers who attack their music with the appearance of either complete abandon or complete cool. Kristie does both. In fact, I find myself comparing her more often to rockers like Bruce Springsteen, Dave Pirner and Pete Townshend; like them, in her abandon, she finds her cool, and the audience finds the same strength through release.

While local "scenes" are filled with people who know how to weave an aura of cool and seduce an audience into their mystique, Kristie Stremel (and almost every other local artist I listed earlier) does nothing of the kind. Not that she doesn’t wear a mantle for protection, but Stremel’s greatness is her ability to plunge whole-heartedly into her songs and find her connection to the audience in that place of abandon. This is no doubt why she was also the most entertaining figure in Frogpond before leaving the band and why she is able to engage with her audience more freely than most other musicians. She knows that what we find in common with her transcends what separates us, and that’s a faith hard won, but once learned, almost impossible to shake. It’s like holding the keys to the universe and knowing that you can take anyone who wants to go for a test drive. Like she sings in "Something to Do," "Lying on my back, yeah, counting all the stars/I don’t care at all/It’s something to do."

But my relationship with Exit 159 has as much to do with the songs as the performances. "Okay" may be my favorite declaration of acceptance and faith in community. "I Like You," uses a gorgeous pop melody to commit the greatest social "sin," confessing your love for another who doesn’t know how to deal with that emotion (that would be most of us). "In the Middle" tackles the greatest of personal questions, reminding me more than a little of the heart of Bruce Springsteen’s *Tracks* CD, asking how we tell our strengths from our weaknesses, and when should we accept what others say is the right thing to do when it doesn’t work for us? Off Exit’s debut EP, the song, "Pieces"--which the band somehow doesn’t recognize as one of the greatest things its ever done and rarely plays live anymore--shows the other side of this dilemma, expressing the high toll addiction is ripping from another’s life. And while virtually every Exit 159 song speaks to my own internal struggles, "You Don’t Know," also off the EP, says more than any other song I can think of about the conflict between believing in yourself and your relationships and facing the fact that such faith may mean you need to learn to say good-bye.

Finally, I think Exit is a great band, the band of 1998, because I have had more unique experiences with this band than any other ever. Every night counts. I learned this late in 1997 when Kristie decided she wasn’t ready to end the band’s Filling Station set just because they had run out of songs. She began making up songs (surprisingly good ones, pieced together with lyrics that would turn up in later songs) and shifting instruments--from guitar to bass to drums. When her bandmates Wheeler and Van Biber left the stage, brothers Byron and Brad Huhmann took over guitar and vocal duties, until Kristie once again returned to the mic to ask her bandmates, with a beautiful, plaintive vocal, "why did you go and leave me up here all alone?" They returned and finished off (though it is infamous with the band) one of the most extraordinary sets I’d ever witnessed.

After that night, I remember one benchmark night after another. There was the Bottleneck show in late March when I thought the band had reached its peak--playing powerfully, passionately and dynamically like only a handful of bands I had ever seen. Then, Jamey Wheeler left, and the band amazingly rebounded over the course of the next few shows. One glorious night, Exit 159, the Glitter Kicks and the Creature Comforts all played together, jumping on stage with one another to help with vocal chores on covers. On this night in particular I remember Kristie was not feeling well at all, but her restraint yielded a certain soulful control that made the show moving on a completely different level. The last show I saw, on December 28th, Kristie was sick again. In one down moment, she leaned her head against the mic, obviously in the misery of a winter flu, but she persevered, playing her heart out, singing at the limits of a voice that wanted to die of hoarseness and managing to be as powerful, if not more powerful, than ever before.

Still, though Kristie Stremel’s enormous charisma and conviction have loads to do with why I am writing about Exit 159 as band of the year, a point with which I doubt Byron and Rob would disagree, it is the band as a whole that does what I don’t think any other band is doing right now (although some, particularly locally, are coming close). There is the gaminess and know-how of both Byron and Rob, but there is something else going on here in the sense of community. Kristie’s earnest rock drama is balanced by Byron’s playfulness. He is a great foil--both irreverent and goofy and yet intent on bringing home the power of any individual moment. This is a guy who fell a good story at the Spirit Fest both because his impishness drove him to climb the speaker column and hang onto the light assembly and also because his enthusiasm for the music pushed him to such limits. Rob is the cornerstone of the band. While Kristie is greaser cool and Byron is almost a caricature of an artsy rocker, Rob is the average fan. He is a lovable, all-American guy who drums like a motherfucker with a sweet grin on his face.

Beyond the fact that Exit 159 plays both Prince’s "Little Red Corvette" better than any other cover I’ve heard as well as Rick Springfield’s "I’ve Done Everything for You" like it was the greatest rock song you almost forgot about, not to mention a pretty cool bluff with Ani Difranco’s "Untouchable Face," this band bridges gaps like few other local or national acts even attempt to do. It appeals to the average pop fan, but it rocks harder than most of the hard-core and metal bands in the area. It has a garage rock sensibility, but the songs are soulful and have more in common with blues and country than they do with the average post-grunge sludge. Exit 159 insists that rock can forge new connections at a time when the radio all but insists on building walls between people. For that reason, and the many others suggested above, Exit 159 is my pick for 1998’s Band of the Year, and I hope they find ways to reclaim that title as early and often as they can. They’re really just getting started, and I’m looking forward to the longest ride imaginable.

--Danny Alexander
danny@thezone.org