Class President plays that song at the Middle East Upstairs on Sunday, 1 October 2023.

Thesaurus Rex, The Roscoes, and Kid Afternoon sandwich the quadruple-stack bill.

By the time you’re a grown adult, there aren’t too many new pop songs left that will stop you dead in your tracks.

What new music can match your first listen to Oneohtrix Point Never’s “Boring Angel,” Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You,” Aphex Twin’s “We are the music makers,” the Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind?,” Bob Dylan’s “Girl From The North Country”? Flawless specimens of popular music stumbled across on a musical journey.

In middle school, you don’t know shit about music, but everything sounds awesome.

In high school, unless you’re a complete brickhead, you suddenly have a “taste” in music, which requires saying Yes and No to sounds. Dovetails nicely with clique culture, pouring kerosene on the tendency to turn your nose up at worthwhile music that nevertheless clashes with your current self-identity. Regrettable.

In college – if you went to college – you find the freedom to not only have a “taste” in music, but also to develop it. You can take the whole weekend to visit the Big Fest upstate or downstate or wherever because no one is waiting up for you to get home by a certain time. If you have a job or your parents’ money, you can spend money on living the lifestyle brand that your music dictates. Sure, you’re still discovering new music, but being able to live the music you already love (by cultivating a passion for the deep dig) is almost as much of a turn-on as any of the music you hear.

By the time you’re tossed into the workforce, sad to say, the average individual has already experienced most of the transcendent and formative music moments they’ll lay claim to for the rest of their lives. Bruce Springsteen didn’t write “Glory Days” for nothing.

Oh, but there are surprises left for the lucky few who stick with music for the longer haul. You might get into jazz. You might get into rock n roll. You might get into what-the-fuck-ever you thought was a strange and foreign sound when you were young.

Erasmus of Rotterdam complained that he had run out of good books to read by the time he hit middle age. Maybe he was right! The guy was born a mere 26 years after the invention of the Gutenberg press. Probably not a lot of quality copy to scan by candlelight in those days.

The sky is the limit these days. Instruments are cheap, pro-level recording equipment & software can be had for almost nothing or stolen. “The only limit is your imagination.” OK, not totally, because sometimes ease of access leads to a general glut in the marketplace, a stultification, a stagnation that arises from abundance rather than scarcity.

The complaint wears a little thin, though, when you put your ear to the ground and hear some hidden gems humming beneath the soil. It’s easy enough to separate the wheat from the chaff. Hit songs have been known to happen in these parts. Hooray For Earth’s “Surrounded By Your Friends” and Passion Pit’s “Sleepyhead” to name a couple.

Add to the local list Main Era’s “Clandestine Sadness” and Class President’s “Wander.” Two flawless pop gems that sound like a revelation every time you hear them, live or recorded.

Kid Afternoon

Kid Afternoon warmed up the Middle East crowd with acoustic ditties crafted in a cabin in Vermont. Much less autotune, though, than Justin Vernon.

Meanwhile the New England Patriots were getting slaughtered on the TV in the front restaurant area. (ZuZu’s maybe? That branding never quite sticks…) Kid Afternoon shook it off.

That moniker is impossible to google by the way. You get 10-hour Youtube videos that parents use to babysit their bored and neglected children.

Class President

A late add to the bill. You never know what’s cooking behind the scenes when bills evolve in the leadup to the day of show.

For smaller club dates, slotting bands in and out is most often a function of how difficult it is to get the schedules of four or five bandmates to align. You think everyone’s on board, but then one critical cog has a sudden commitment they can’t skip, and the whole thing breaks down.

Sometimes it’s a function of ticket sales. You think X number of bands is going to be enough to draw a decent number of people through the door. But if advance ticket sales don’t look good as the day of show approaches, hey, throw another band (X+1) on top of the pile and see what happens. The right band can make the difference.

Seemed like a good crowd for Class President. The Lowell band has been gigging up and down the eastern seaboard. Long ways off, but they’ve got a show scheduled at the The Town and The City arts & music festival next April. A lot of ‘the’s in that festival name. Could be streamlined, but you’re copping the title of hometown hero Jack Kerouac’s first novel, so you live with it.

With only three members, it’s probably easier for Class President to align their schedules for gigs than most bands. And, hey, if everything falls through, the fronter can just do a solo acoustic set.

The Roscoes

The Roscoes have a new song out called “Blame The Clock.” Available on…. Spotify.

Ugg.

Personal anecdote: I tried to find the song by googling their band name, finding their Instagram, clicking on their Linktree, hitting the Spotify stream “Blame The Clock” button — at which point my laptop commandeered my phone, I guess, which had been streaming a football podcast, to play “Weather” by the Roof Dogs on the Bandcamp app, which opened by itself. Never heard of the band or the song. Still haven’t heard the new song by The Roscoes (unless I heard it live).

Fucking love the future.

Bandcamp is going to suck shortly now that it’s been acquired by Songtradr. But goddamn, Spotify sucks right now. Why can’t we have nice things? Go see live music, like a Hump Night at Silhouette Lounge on 10/16.

Thesaurus Rex

Thesaurus Rex feels like one of those bands that gets its kicks cosplaying as musicians as much as making music. The creative braintrust of the band has produced a ton of polished and semi-polished graphics, posters, thumbnails, band photos, videos, websites, and Tiny Desk pitches. Not a ton of music though. 

Shades of Boston Cream’s sense of humor, but maybe less horsepower under the hood.

Hey, a short discography is just a fact of life for a new band. No need to wring your hands about it. The Brooklyn-based band closed out the night with an easy, breezy set of indie rock that refused to fake the funk.

Photo Gallery