Ironically enough, their song “Crazy” contained the line “evil wears a three-piece suit.” The speeches continued to be tame and very politically correct. Rehearsed rebellion and repeated kowtowing to the corporate sponsors made me wonder if the independent movement was in danger of being absorbed by the machine. Holmes even plugged the drink Red Bull at one point during the program. Hey, whatever it takes to stay awake?

Suddenly it got quiet. I looked up. And froze. Two beautiful women had mounted the stage. Dressed in black leather, with a belt of metal studs, wild blond hair, these dominatrices and their two men launched into music that was described to us as “AC/DC+Guns N Roses+Blondie.” They were Halfcocked, an incredible metal rock band that single-handedly transformed the room from a communal rest stop into a musical mosh pit. The lead singer, Sarah Reitkopp, a great quickener of male pulses, thrashed and gyrated and had the audience on the edge of their seats as she led her fellow bandmates into the raucous “I Lied.” An irresistible combo of in-your-face sexuality and explosive rock, Halfcocked was a shot of pure musical adrenaline. The lead also flaunted her sensuality outrageously like some combination rock diva and exotic dancer, wriggling her hips, playing with her tongue and simulating oral sex on her bandmate’s guitar. Their four minute performance by itself was well worth the price of admission, showcasing as it did that appealing amalgam of sex and song, or as Holmes commented, “That powerful combination of turned on and scared shitless.”

Performances by Howie Day, Roomful of Blues and Mr. Lif revived the crowd and sent it to new heights of ecstasy when the final performance burst onto the stage. None other than Nullset dominated the room for the next five minutes, their song “Smokewood” blazing from every scorching hot speaker. Involuntarily, I found myself grooving to the music, and I soon saw I wasn’t alone. Jumping, jiving and thrashing about with genuine, inspired abandon, Nullset frontman Ken Smith led the band in a musically cathartic scream of rage that seemed to tear out his vocal cords. Honest to God, I could feel my blood bouncing and internal organs being rearranged by the raw power in “Smokewood,” and I loved every second of it. I sat in wonder, both shaken and stirred by the wonderful sound of indie rock vibrating in my body. If only to repeat the sentiment expressed by so many that evening, it was truly incredible that so much talent could stem from a single place like Boston. The Red Sox won that night too. The depth of local pride present at the Boston Music Awards was truly heartfelt, and the musical talents on display that night are destined to be household names by the time the 15th Annual awards roll around.

WINNERS AT

THE 14TH ANNUAL

BOSTON MUSIC AWARDS