It's ten minutes before the Stone Foxes take the stage at Slim's on a rainy night, and guitarist Aaron Mort is gushing about their new van.

"It's a Dodge fifteen-passenger. We found it on Craigslist. A big white one. Real old school." He's chuckling a little, but there's a note of pride in his voice.

"Yeah, we call it 'The White Whale,'" riffs guitarist Spence Koehler.

The Stone Foxes are a band reaching for a time long before their own. Aaron doesn't own an iPod; instead, he talks about his vinyl collection. When they cite influences, they're more apt to talk about bands from before they were born than anything produced in this century. The band of twenty-somethings stick to songs of subjects so heavy it's hard to believe they know what they're talking about. They sometimes speak in traditional blues metaphors, in raspy, road-weary voices that denote struggles that take a lifetime to develop.

"I think, collectively, we like a lot of Bob and The Band," says drummer Shannon Koehler as he shuffles around the room. Shannon, with shaggy strawberry-blond hair and flushed cheeks, is wearing a CSNY T-shirt. His brother Spence looks like an extra on the set of Dazed and Confused --flannel shirt over jeans, long hair, and an unshakeable good nature. All of them are the opposite of rock stardom: unassuming, self-deprecating, and a little bit shy.

The Bob that Shannon refers to is Dylan, whose melodic quirks haunt the Stone Foxes' repertoire of lush bluesy anthems, enough so for them to be comfortably on a first-name basis with him. People will undoubtedly try to define their sound by immediately comparing them to the greats --Hendrix, Clapton, Creedence, Early Zeppelin. But even the band can't define it.

The Stone Foxes' sound is hard to find fault with. Their bold brand of vintage blues-rock, the only phrase that comes close to defining their sound, regularly wins over tough crowds.

Tonight's crowd is as tough as a crowd can be. The band is rushed in to open the show after the lead singer for the Federalists, a sartorial indie band from Walnut Creek, calls in sick. Either band would be out of place on this bill--the crowd tonight is dressed in black cotton tees, and is hungry for hardcore.

Believe it or not, it's not the weirdest bill they've played on. "We've done a lot worse, back when we were booking ourselves," says Spence. "We did a hip-hop show once," says Aaron. "It actually went pretty well. The crowd seemed like they were really into it."

"We rely a lot on the audience when it comes to our shows," Spence explains later backstage. Songs that start as the boys noodling around on their instruments are constantly changing with each performance. "It just depends. We totally bounce off of each other, and we're constantly changing things up. It's really cool to see the audience react and interact with us."

About three songs into their set at Slim's, something starts to happen. Feet begin tapping. Five songs in, people begin inching towards the stage. Six songs in, a few brave people huddle at the foot of the stage. And by the end of their set, even the toughest-looking goth kids are dancing.

The band is lounging around a dressing room that isn't theirs after their set, all clutching Coronas and laughing. Bass player Avi Vinocur comes crawling back in with a grin on his face. "You know what I just heard? Those guys are from Bright Eyes," he says, motioning up toward the stage above their heads, where Judgment Day is thrashing on a violin and a cello. The rest of the band is in awe. "Yeah. They're session guys for Bright Eyes. Isn't that crazy?"

Nothing about the Stone Foxes makes sense. The oldest among them is twenty-four years old, and yet they manage to sound like they've been around for at least thirty years instead of four. Four years has been long enough to take them from booking their own shows to completing their first tour. The four years behind them are also taking them to a few dates with the Mother Hips and to SXSW this spring.

Even the band seems surprised by their momentum. "It is weird, you know? It's so weird to go from just the Stone Foxes, the band, to the Stone Foxes, the company," says Spence vehemently, gesturing broadly with one hand. "Like, we're a company now. The Stone Foxes have a bank account."

"We have no idea how far we'll go with this," says Avi, scratching the back of his head.

"We'll take it as far as we can, I guess."

"Until one of us gets married," mumbles Aaron.

"We could just be like Bruce Springsteen and invite them into the band," cracks Spence.

"All our wives will be terrible!" spouts Shannon, prompting laughter and murmurs of

"Yoko" throughout the room. Watching them bounce zingers off of one another is a lot like watching them play. It's improvised, and it doesn't always make sense to everyone else in the room. But it's what they're good at, and it's what's working for them.

Contact: jamable@sfsu.edu | Jody Amable was born and raised in San Jose, California. Her two favorite things in life are music and Disneyland.