The crisis continues.

It started, as these things do, with a milestone birthday. When Sandy turned 50 in 2024, her husband Wouter responded the way any emotionally mature partner would: not with a motorcycle, not with a sports car, but by starting a rock band. Cheaper than a Corvette. Louder, too.

Two years earlier the two of them had gotten married, and half their friends flew in from Portland, OR, to witness it. So for the big 5-0, the plan was obvious: throw a party near them too. There are no direct flights to Portland, so the group compromised on Seattle — which is basically Portland, if Portland had worse traffic and better views.

Original plan: hire a professional grunge cover band and let a room full of 50-year-olds pretend it's 1994 again. Then, six months before the party, Wouter was up in Portland for a wedding at his friend Mike's house. Mike has a man cave. Mike and his friend Jason were in said man cave, jamming on guitars, the way men do when left unsupervised. Wouter walked in, entirely uninvited, and asked if he could join on bass. Nobody stopped him. This is the origin story of most bands, and also several restraining orders.

They played for a few hours and it was, against all reasonable odds, good. So the only sensible next move was to skip hiring a band and just be the band. Mike and Jason said yes, possibly against their better judgment. The trio named themselves with the brutal honesty of men who know exactly what they are, and Midlife Crisis was born.

Seattle was a semi-acoustic affair — three guys, some borrowed gear, and a percussionist keeping everyone honest. It went well enough that the crisis, evidently, continues: Mike and Jason are flying to New Orleans this November to do it again, this time plugged in and at full volume, landing on Wouter's birthday, no less. Joining them for the electric set are Aaron Feingold on drums and Gavin McArthur — of Schlong fame — on keys. Some men buy a second motorcycle. This band reunited a man cave jam session and called it a world tour.