At first glance, there’s nothing especially striking about the Kingston Springs: they don tried-and-true indie garb (plaid lumberjack shirts and tight jeans), and you can tell who they were listening to when they wrote their songs (Kings of Leon, Modest Mouse, maybe even some Fleet Foxes). But somehow, they’ve come up with the formula for musical success in Nashvegas. Sure, having a legendary pop icon in the family helps—singer Michael McDonald is the uncle of one of the boys—but it’s not everything in this town. After all, the chance to catch a glimpse of the ex-Doobie would not have been enough to draw a crowd of 150 or so on a Thursday night – particularly a Thursday night when the Black Keys and Tom Petty were in town. What these kids have going for them are a transparency and honesty in both their music and persona that are somewhat endangered in the Music City indie scene. Yeah, I have better-recorded EPs in my collection, but the home-recording quirks of their album give it a bit of grit and youthfulness that is infectious (plus, how many of the screaming teenage girls from Thursday’s concert are going to care if the mix isn’t always 100% spot-on?). As for the release show, the Springs were so overjoyed that often they were simply speechless and would just have to keep playing, and play they did. The keyboardist/guitarist/trumpeter astounded with his multi-tasking abilities; the gawky bassist gave Victor Wooten a run for his money; and the drummer was as clean and inventive as ever (you’d never guess that he picked up kit less than two years ago). And of course the handsome lead singer could have charmed the mini-dress off of any adoring high school girl of his choice – if, you know, his mom wasn’t there and all. Yeah, the kids are all right.–Christine Smith