Not many bands will get to this point: to celebrate a ten year old album as a complete unit--not in a spur of the moment thrown together reunion gig--but in a real celebratory party where fans anticipate the night by waxing poetic on Twitter and posting throwback Thursday photos of their Ciudad encounters ten years ago. I guess it’s safe to say, Ciudad has remained relevant, youthful, and exciting after nearly twenty years in the indie music scene. That’s a college graduate right there. Ciudad’s longevity is such a curious phenomenon, especially at this time of customizable music choices. No one can force you into liking an artist or a song now, the way the Top Ten countdown monopolized the airwaves in the 90s and early 2000s. Nowadays, you create your music playlist, at your own volition, and at your own pace. The band started in high school as a project in Social Studies class, with members Mikey Amistoso, Justin Sunico, Jeff Cabal, and Mitch Singson as groupmates. Then, they started playing at high school fairs and school events. Gigs outside the school eventually followed, and these guys were 14 years old, which meant they did homework in bars like Mayric’s or Club Dredd, while waiting for their turn to play. Pretty badass fourteen-year-olds. Only, they looked geeky and exuded pure totoy-ness. Back when Jesse Eisenberg and “geeky chic” weren’t cool yet. This was the time of Freaks and Geeks and Sweet Valley High—a time when jocks and cheerleaders ruled, and there was segregation of the losers from the popular crowd. Ah, the social dynamics of high school in the 90s. Who knew it’d all turn around today? Maybe Ciudad did, or maybe they were just ahead of their time. They got their break in 2000, when they release their first album, “Hello! How are You, Mico the Happy Bear?” under Song BMG Music Entertainement, which gave the singles, “Sipilyo,” “With Me,” and “Radio Guy.” For their second release, the band decided to go independent. Their sophomore effort, “Is That Ciudad? Yes, Son It’s Me,” was recorded and produced by all four members. It spawned favorites, such as “Dance Lessons,” “The Herb,” and “Monica” –songs that still generate much dancing and cheering at gigs now. For older fans, hearing Ciudad’s earlier songs brings back familiar faces, names and experiences that once upon a time meant the world to them. It could be quite cathartic. It’s an interesting experience to witness a Ciudad gig because of the kind of people they attract: fans would range from the high school kids beating curfew to the IT manager who just got off work, to the loyal attendees who know every lyric of every song in all the albums. It’s a poignant melting of worlds and a bridging of age groups every time Ciudad plays live.