It’s 5:30pm and Chris Otepka is nowhere to be found.

The Troubled Hubble front man has the ability to slip by undetected. Inconspicuously, he is asleep in his bands tour van – a habit he has formed during the last few weeks. Whatever the cause, for whatever the reason, the newfound routine works. Not to say things were broken until this point, but his Chicago area quartet seems to be clicking on all cylinders as of late.

Tonight, the show is in Milwaukee, and the 5:30pm naptime comes thirty minutes after the opening act took the stage. If the early start seems out of the ordinary, it’s because this is the first of two shows. Playing twice in a night is a feat usually saved for stand-up comics and Vegas lounge acts, not rock’n'roll. Yet tonight is different, as the first is an all-ages gig, and the second targets the 21+ crowd.

Talking with Troubled Hubble, one gets the idea they are respectfully aware of the crossroads ahead. They are a band on the proverbial brink; resting before the invisible cusp reserved for bands one right move away from “making it.” The feeling of anticipation is subtle, but undeniable. Like talking to a pitcher who is throwing a no-hitter, acknowledging the possibility of success is a sure jinx.

What is considered “making it” is debatable. For Otepka and his band mates, it is a far cry from MTV Cribs lifestyle. Any sort of tangible evidence of their hard work would serve as proof-of-appreciation, and create a broader audience for their music. A means to finally live off of their music is all the band wants. Many would argue it is the only thing a band truly needs.

It is odd for an artist without a label, or even manager, to garner any sort of hype. But with Otepka, guitarist Josh Miller and the rhythm section of brothers Andrew and Nate Lanthrum, Troubled Hubble has done so.

Being surrounded by this sort of buzz can be either a blessing or a curse. Their perfect fusion of mainstream pop sensibility and indie-rock credentials finds them towing the line dividing what is underground and what is not. Striking an artistic balance between the two is no easy task – become too commercially accessible and get ostracized by the thrift-store groupies that make up your core audience; indulge yourself with strange and quirky music only understood by your core audience and be left to hump crappy day jobs for the rest of your life.

As they chase the carrot of success, Troubled Hubble knows this is a marathon not a race, and the slow route will make the end more sustained and enjoyable. In fact, the elder Lanthrum, Nate, has begun gathering footage for a documentary that will follow the band over the next year. His film is not a vanity project of somebody taking himself too seriously, but instead a way for someone who realizes this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to remember every moment.

The attitude towards the film is a micro chasm of the bands self-image. They realize they are just a miniature piece of the large rock’n'roll puzzle; that their place in history is grossly undefined if defined at all. Yet, their piece happens to rest in the most compelling section, thus acquiring the possibility attention. It is because of this humbly aware demeanor journalists have been known to fall sleep in the backseat of their van, that the members mingle about the audience before and after their shows, and why their mailing list has breached 1,000 names of like-minded people across the country.

Musically, the band is fun while also taking themselves seriously. They are to the point, yet ambiguous. They are expressive, intelligent and catchy as hell. Classifying their sound with a genre is a daunting task. Though their sound is misleadingly original, they do embody many of their influence – almost literally. If Modest Mouse had more heart, Dismemberment Plan more soul, They Might Be Giants more brains and if Clem Snide grew a pair, you would have the Frankenstein that is Troubled Hubble.

Besides the influential potpourri, each individual member has a defined role. The four rely on each other the way any successful act does, which is evident in their flawless stage presentation. This is why Otepka’s solo project, Heligoats, is average at best and requires the other three to make his songs great.

Otepka’s matter-of-fact sincerity is refreshing. He is sheepishly confident and stylishly unassuming. On stage, he struggles for the right words, but understands the crowd will love anything he says. With a unique way of telling a story, he can say things you would never imagine, but have them make perfect sense once he does. He connects with the audience, or perhaps they connect with him.

Miller is the All-American boy personified. The blond-haired, blue-eyed college graduate is a former starting receiver on his HS state champion football team, a phenomenal guitarist and annoying good at all his endeavors. Surprisingly, he only appears arrogant while indulging in his cock-rock stage persona.

The brothers Lanthrum anchor the band. Nate’s thunderous drums and Andrew’s intriguing bass lines are unfaltering. As two-of-a-kind they may be on stage, the two are as different as night and day while off. Nate is the social butterfly of the band, able to get off stage and connect with dozens of new people each night. Andrew, however, seems more content to find the few familiar faces in house and relax.

It is this dynamic that has the band in top form. Fresh off their second trek to Austin’s South By South West festival, and a month before heading back into the studio, Troubled Hubble has nothing to do but wait. Their self-funded 2002 release charted as high as #40 in CMJ, spawned two cross-country tours and slated several thousand sales, as well as securing opening slots for acts like Spoon, Ultimate Fake Book. Ben Kweller, Mates Of State, The Motion City Soundtrack, Of Montreal and Pedro The Lion. Nearly two years after releasing Penturbia, the band is preparing fly to Washington DC to record at Inner Ear Studio.

The band has more than a dozen songs tracked and recorded in the Lanthrum’s basement studio, but they still desired the experience of working with a bona fide producer. Something which has eluded them on prior releases. The material the band has stockpiled for their trek to the nations capitol will take the group down new paths. A thicker, fully sounding band will not only lay beneath Otepkas witty phrases, but also help shoulder more of the songs focus. As the camaraderie grows more evident in their sound, one is left to question why.

Maybe it is because all four members live in each other’s general vicinity. On Penturbia, Miller was in Iowa, Otepka in Chicago, and the Lanthrums were in their suburban home, nestled 50 miles from the Windy City. Now, however, each member has relocated to Elburn, Illinois – the town where they up and met during school. In fact, the namesake for their breakout release was taken from their hometown. Penturbia comes from the idea mass exoduses from cities and suburbs to more rural areas.

Maybe the change is natural. Bands mature, and the individual components become more confident as well as creative. Bands only have an active muse for a limited amount of time, and if they do not strike when that iron is the hottest, they will ultimately be left to second-guess their pasts. Troubled Hubble seems to understand they are in their most creative moment, and this is the time to act.

Maybe it’s just the right time – that the music in their minds is at all all-time high, and ready to burst out with a blaring figer-tapped solo, danceable bass line, mind altering drum fill, or endearing tale of bees, canoes and love.

Where the band will go after the record is finished is yet to be determined. Earlier this year, their tour was cut short when Otepka severely broke his ankle after he jumped off a balcony during a show in Des Moines Iowa. What is for sure, the band will be active. Recently, the foursome took the necessary steps for acquiring a business license to become “incorporated.” Another tour is inevitable, but when, where, and on whose dime is yet to be solidified. But rest assured, it will entertain.

The band is no stranger to good fortune. From an eccentric millionaire fan eager to supply financial aid whenever they need [though they rarely accept], having one of Chicago’s largest managerial firms continue to offer advice even after Troubled Hubble decided not to sign a contract with the agency, a verbal agreement with the cities most illustrious booking agent, to a school connection with one of the nations most accredited promotion companies, the band seems to be under a lucky star.

A star most visible with the aid of a Hubble telescope.

Northern Star Online, April 21, 2004