At the risk of making assumptions about your burg, it's a safe bet that there's a band in your general zone that sounds something like Olympia's Christian Mistress: Twin guitars peel out ahead of a powerful, almost sexual strut, and guitar-hero tangents come tempered by metal-icon concision. Maybe that crew of neighborhood revivalists has a convincing frontman, too, a would-be Bruce Dickinson or Klaus Meine waiting in the local wings. They've probably got an exquisitely campy name, too, and an allegiant flock that loads into the neighborhood bar for riffs after work on a Friday night. This sort of crossroads between hard rock and heavy metal has a history of inspired legions and full arenas; it has a present, however, of working-class lifers smoking up in late-night practice spaces far and wide.