IN THE PIPELINE:Hardly prima donnas

As it happens every generation, it’s common sport for many adults to bemoan the current teenage generation, complaining they lack the focus, ambition and responsibility that existed of past generations. For anyone who feels that way, I wanted to share a story about a group of teenagers I met — a group that might help restore some faith among the critical.

I was made aware of a newspaper article up in Seattle, an interview with an up-and-coming rock ‘n’ roll band called The Lonely H. In the piece, one of the band members mentioned that as part of the cross-country tour on which they were about to embark, they had picked up a copy of a recent book I wrote, “Led Zeppelin Crashed Here.” The book is an atlas of rock ‘n’ roll history sites, and they were taking it on the road to track some of the places.

This bit of news made my day, because in my head I’d always hoped the book would find its way onto at least one tour bus. I mean, what better environment for a book like this than with a traveling band?

After reading the article, I sent the band’s manager a note thanking them for picking up the book. I was going to send them a signed copy, but after looking at their tour itinerary, I saw that they would be playing minutes from here in Huntington Beach (an early, “all ages” show at the Koo’s Art Center in Long Beach). So I decided to take my 14-year-old son to see them play, and to present them with a fresh copy of the book.

The Lonely H hails from a small spot on the map called Port Angeles, which is in Washington on the Olympic Peninsula. I had a chance to hear their new album before going to hear them play and I was knocked out. After all, the band members were born in 1988 or 1989, yet their sound runs totally counter to what many of their peers are playing these days.

Listening to their latest, “Hair,” squarely takes one back to a time when music (for many of us 40-somethings) possessed more heart, soul and spirit—the 1970s. The songs on “Hair” evoke everything from Led Zeppelin to the Allman Brothers to the Rolling Stones to Queen. Rich tapestries of piano, acoustic and electric guitars and a chunky rhythm section underscore catchy, intelligent songs that would have sounded right at home on my Duster’s 8-track back in 1978.

But their sound is not dated at all. Rather, it has a modern sense that feels refreshingly honest and relevant in today’s peculiar musical landscape, a business that seems more concerned with bland, packaged pop than in breaking new authentic rock ‘n’ roll acts. But what would these guys be like in person? Stilted attitudes like a lot of other up-and-coming rock stars? Prima donnas? As it turned out, hardly.

The band members Mark Fredson (piano and vocals), Johnny Whitman (bass guitar), Eric Whitman (guitar), Colin Field (guitar), and Ben Eyestone (drums) pulled up in front of the Koo’s Art Center in a well-worn van that they’d driven themselves cross-country and back since last July. No big luxury bus, no driver, no roadies even. Just five good-natured kids who were a bit sleepy after driving from the last night’s gig in Flagstaff (and before that Houston, New Orleans, Gainesville, Fla., New York and about a dozen other cities).

My son Charlie and I met them and started talking, then wandered over to their van to help them lug some of their gear in to the club. The vehicle was packed comically tight with equipment, merchandise and, somewhere in there, luggage for what has certainly been one of the craziest road trips they’ll ever take.

Watching them set up their equipment to run through a quick sound check, running cables, testing microphones, setting up their T-shirt stand, etc., it was easy to forget they are just teenagers. Then we sat back and listened to them play, and the thought that they are mere teens became even more preposterous.

The Lonely H’s soaring harmonies, tight musicianship and heartfelt playing were a joy to behold. Free of any pretense, they rocked, they had fun, and they reminded me of how vital music can be when it comes from the right place.

After their set, as The Lonely H broke down their gear and (somehow) managed to fit it perfectly back into their beast of a van, we talked some more. They were figuring out where to stay that night (they’ve got the budget motel-formula down cold) but they weren’t worried. This was simply life on the road for a group of scruffy, laid-back teenagers who are working like dogs to make their dreams real.

Come this fall, they’ll all be sharing a house together, not some rock ‘n’ roll crash pad, but a place at the University of Washington, where all but one will be living together as classmates (the other band member will be attending another nearby college).

And so for anyone who has concerns about the work habits of today’s youth, I offer The Lonely H—a disciplined bunch of kids who I hope you’ll be hearing a lot more from soon. I’ll mention to their manager that he should have them play here in Huntington Beach again, but in the meantime, you can check them out at www.thelonelyh.com.

CHRIS EPTING is the author of nine books including “Images of America — Huntington Beach.” Write him chris@chrisepting.com.