I won't lay claim to the term "death metal melodique." I can't remember where I read it, but it accurately sums up the sound of Boston's All That Remains. It was a pulverizing monster crush with extremely nimble speed, metal with cheater slicks. The double-kick was like a king-sized defibrillator and it left the Water Street Music Hall crowd happy and spent Monday night. The Devil Wears Prada's set was a little more tantrum-esque and a little less concentrated. The band seemed to have a lot of fun, though.

The band I was least excited to see wound up being the best of the night. Story Of The Year hit the stage hot and hard with metal heft, a nod to hardcore, and even some breakaway rock ‘n' roll moments. Though I find myself scratching my head with a lot of these non-sequitur-titled bands, I liked this group a lot. So did my wife, and she hates everything.

But the real cool, Uncle-Frank-is-the-shiznit moment here was watching my 12-year-old niece, Brandi, take all this in. This was her first show. I had taken her mother to her first concert back somewhere in the last century (George Thorogood and the Destroyers with Johnny Winter) and got to watch her eyes get big, too. You see, you can turn your headphones up loud until your nose bleeds, you can stare at the videos, but the first time you get immersed in a sea of heads, feet, and hands, the first time that kick drum knocks your breath out, that first guitar chord - well, there's nothing quite like it. And there's nothing like watching a kid dig it for the first time. Yup, I've ruined another one.