The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

Four kids are sauntering toward Jeff Allen. Their arms are crossed and they look a little scared.

"Hey guys," Allen says, affecting a cool older brother tone. "When do you go on?"

"Eight minutes," says one of the boys.

This is why they're scared.

Exactly eight minutes later, the quartet of three 16-year-olds and a 14-year-old drummer take the stage. The band's name is Shoe Shiners. Expect to hear it a lot in the next few years.

In a lot of ways, the upstarts remind Allen, The Plastic Constellations singer, of himself at that age, except that they're better.

"The Shoe Shiners are a special case because they are so talented for their age," Allen says. "They are so good that it almost makes me retroactively jealous that I wasn't that good when I was that age. When we were 14 we played really shitty pop songs, and these kids are light years ahead."

When the Shoe Shiners were 14 they released their first album.

Still, the Shoe Shiners have yet to grow into their talent. On stage they look nervous. This could be because their parents are in the audience snapping up photos. That and they are opening for their idols in the biggest rock club in Minneapolis. Musically, they are spot on. They play grunge infused with a hefty dose of pop. And, yes, they are way too good for their age.

Two bands later when The Plastic Constellations go on, the Shoe Shiners are standing front and center studying them. This is a special night—not just because their favorite band is playing but because this could also be their last show. This is simultaneously a CD release party for The Plastic Constellations and a farewell concert. The band recently announced its "indefinite hiatus."

"We had a great time [touring] with the last record, but all of us are in long-term relationships or married. The idea of doing it again sounded like something we didn't want to do," Allen explains. "So we decided if we're not going to do that, are we comfortable being a local band that just plays every once in a while? Not really. We want to leave when we're in our prime. If we play again, great. We're not breaking up officially yet, but we might not play again, either."

The Plastic Constellations do sound in their prime. They play the kind of music that is perfect for the last day of high school. Only, it feels like tonight the band is officially graduating into adulthood. The music playfully flirts with punk. It's too happy to be emo. It's not contrived enough to be truly indie rock. So it's just rock—happy, wonderful rock with lots of "la-las" and the errant "wooh." It is, however, rock that focuses on the subjects of wizards and dragons.

The highlight of the show comes during a song about a fire-breathing serpent. The band tosses close to a hundred cardboard swords into the crowd and suggests the audience do what they want with them. This, of course, means a lot of hitting and throwing and whacking them about. The mood is too fun to be sad, even if it may be the band's last concert.

And at the end of the night, The Plastic Constellations invite half of the Shoe Shiners on stage with them.

"It's coming full circle," Allen says. "Here we are, 11 years later playing 1^st Ave. at our sort of final show with a young band."

Consider the torch passed.