The New York band Charly Bliss have just about the most perfectly millennial origin story I've ever encountered. When frontwoman Eva Grace Hendricks met guitarist Spencer Fox, both of them were 15, and they were in line outside a Tokyo Police Club show at Webster Hall. Fox was carrying a soda bottle full of liquor, and they got to talking. It's perfect. You could pour Sparks directly down my throat while yelling old Hipster Runoff entries at me and you wouldn't bring me back to the blog-rock era quite as forcefully as that story. Charly Bliss are the children of an era -- one that now seems positively paleolithic -- when giddy and hooky underground rock music seemed to burst with possibilities, when it seemed like all the energy was churning just under the surface.