Slow & Steady/ A night out on the town with a Superhero in waiting

3:45 p.m.: Every band should have a van like this baby-blue 1982 Chevy Starcraft. Although it lacks a working speedometer, it makes up for that with plenty of room for amps and plush bucket seats as welcoming as a warm bath.

Three members of Accidental Superhero pile in and turn north on Interstate 25 for a Monday night gig at Denver's Soiled Dove.

Sean Mulholland, the bassist, is driving. Partly because it's his van, and partly because he handles all the band's practical matters. He worries a lot.

In the back are guitarist Chris "Cornbread" Willard (aka The Bread) and singer Jonathan Kuiper . Drummer Jeff Woods will meet them at the Soiled Dove.

Kuiper and The Bread are busy passing gas and indulging in the meandering conversation of long car trips.

Kuiper's father is a Presbyterian minister and he has inherited the gift of gab. His thoughts spill out in a manic purging of whatever crosses his mind.

He wants to give the Dalai Lama an atomic wedgie.

"Are we there yet?"

He has nightmares about nodes on his vocal chords.

"We had a couple of funny phases when I wore plastic pants. I looked like a fishing lure."

Then Kuiper blurts out, "Day jobs suck so bad."

That launches the inevitable discussion for all ambitious bands, The Big Dream.

The Big Dream looks roughly like this: Get signed to a label. Millions of dollars. Radio hits. A tour bus. Platinum albums. Adoring fans. And never, ever work a day job again.

People don't ask if Accidental Superhero has a shot at getting signed by a label. They ask why in the world the band isn't signed yet.

Especially lately.

Accidental Superhero has racked up more than 300,000 downloads on mp3.com, beating out most commercial heavyweights. The New York Post declared the band is "about to crack the big time" during its recent showcase tour through the Big Apple.

The band is being flown to New York in a few weeks to play for Dick Clark, as 10 finalists (from 1,000 entries) vie for a shot to play on the American Music Awards telecast. The band then heads to Los Angeles, where it's been invited to play for a room of music- industry players.

The telephone rings almost every day now, with recording execs on the other end.

The guys in Accidental Superhero still get juiced about the possibilities, but the excitement is tempered by a tinge of cynicism. After all, this dance has dragged on for seven long years now.

Kuiper and Mulholland are childhood friends who started playing together in college. Mulholland, a music major, told Kuiper to come back when he got better.

But Kuiper wore him down with pure charisma, and the pair became the heart of Accidental Superhero.

They recruited The Bread from the metal outfit Clown a few years ago, and Woods drifted back into the band this year.

The only time Accidental Superhero split up was when Kuiper moved to Los Angeles for a few months and flirted with becoming the lead singer for Linkin Park. He felt like he was cheating on Mulholland.

Despite the attention, the right offer still hasn't come along.

Lots of people like the music, but nobody wants to pony up the cash necessary to make it a national success.

"We aren't going to be the guy looking for the girlfriend any more," says Kuiper, somewhat convincingly.

5:45 p.m.: Accidental Superhero is lost. The band was supposed to be at the Soiled Dove 15 minutes ago; instead, it's tooling around the streets of Denver. This is not the first time this has happened.

"We're so stupid," says Kuiper. "I can't believe how dumb we are. We usually find places by accident."

A few minutes later, the Soiled Dove magically appears. They need to unload the Starcraft and squeeze in a sound check before their opening slot at 8.

The band is warming the stage for two young bands touring North America - Haven, from England, and Division of Laura Lee (D.O.L.L.), from Sweden.

Haven's rented tour bus - tigers painted on the side - has already pulled up.

"They have a tour bus," Kuiper says. "How did they get a tour bus? Oh yeah, they sell records. Oh yeah, they have a label."

8 p.m.: A Soiled Dove employee walks up to the band and snarls, "It's 8 o'clock," as if it's a threat. The sound check went fine, although the other bands - who seem desperate to look like retro hipsters - refused to even say hello.

The crowd tonight is dozens instead of hundreds, as the sports bar across the street throbs with Monday Night Football fans. About 50 people have wandered in by this time, but it still looks empty. Kuiper asks the surly employee for help forming a pathway through the crowd so he can get to the stage.

The man doesn't laugh.

8:05 p.m.: The quartet hits the first note of "14 Miles" and something great happens. The peripheral concerns melt away, and for a few minutes it's just about the music.

Nothing else.

The can't-get-it-out-of-your-skull pop rock of Accidental Superhero pours through the speakers and heads begin to bob.

It's hard to avoid singing along. The music is unabashedly commercial and pretty irresistible.