Melee at Midway

`Clipping six-pack rings at Midway Cafe.`

Bikethrasher pops wheelies at Midway Cafe on Friday, 23 June 2023.

The Most Beautiful Moth In America opens while the bassist for Mercury’s Folly punches his v-card.

It was a Hump Night! The Most Beautiful Night In America!

And as usual at Midway Cafe, it’s a musical melee on a Friday night. The Hippie Hour, perennial favorite of the local granola community, kicks off the early evening hours before the entire club rinses, washes, and repeats for a second show later in the night.

For a good two or three hours, you can’t tell what decade it is and you don’t care.

The nice part is that not all the hippies find their way out the door, so you get some stragglers (usually the gnarliest hippies among them) hanging around for the next show, whether it’s ska, punk, rock, funk, whatever. Makes for a nice personality stew, which fits Jamaica Plain to a T.

If you get there early for the second show, sidle up to the bar and enjoy a drink. But here’s a tip: if the bartender asks you for the lowdown on a band, make sure its membership isn’t sitting right next to you while you describe them in the third-person. That’d be awkward, right?

Just another Hump Day tip for living your best life.

The Most Beautiful Moth In America

Moths get a bad rap as the ugly cousin to butterflies.

But does anyone besides entomologists truly appreciate the radical diversity of the winged insect? There are a lot of moths out there that will blow your mind. And the most beautiful of all took the stage at Midway Cafe on Friday night.

Moths bring attitude too. The fronter for the four-piece started the set by throwing up the devil horns and asking the room, “R U REDDY 2 RAWK?” In fact, it was less a question, more a statement of fact delivered in the key of twee.

The rock n roll quartet craft solid indie bangers that serve as platform and launching pad for the lead vocalist’s voice. Shades of country twang, Gaelic war cry, and that lady from The Cranberries.

Shout out to the “I Want To Ride Sharks With You” song.

Mercury’s Folly

Mercury’s Folly was a late substitution (or late add, depending on how you look at it) to the bill.

The three-piece garage punkers were visiting from Vermont, which is the new Friendly Neighbor To The North ever since Canada lost the title due to Tim Hecker declaring war on America’s hearing.

The talkative drummer let everyone know it was the bassist Dakota’s first show.

Not sure what that means exactly. Like, first show playing in front of a paying audience? Or really first-first show, playing in front of anyone at all that is not in the band? The drummer, who was filling in for someone who couldn’t make the trip, was in a mood to tell all.

That could put some first-timers on edge with performance anxiety. But the Midway Cafe is a chill room full of encouraging souls who are not looking to give you a hard time. The trio screamed and thrashed their way through a set of garage punk ditties with aplomb.

Bikethrasher

Local giggers Bikethrasher consistently put on good shows. Not sure the four-piece has a ton of recorded material out there, but regular gigs have them dialed into the type of sound and energy that works well in the smaller venues around town. In particular, the rhythm section has figured out how to transmit every iota of funk/punk through all types of sound systems, dodgy and decent alike.

Post punk vibes. Grunge vibes. (With shades of Lowell rockers Tysk Tysk Task, who wil find thier way to the Midway Cafe for a Hump Night on July 14th.)

The set was a mix of originals and covers. The originals took various lines of attack, but the overall thrust was driving, blue-based rock with some alt rock textures. Shades of Raconteurs. The covers sounded like, well, what they’re supposed to sound like!

Bikethrasher serves up gnarly covers, which sounds like a backhanded compliment until you sit down and think about how hard it is to do a cover right. The band showed off its timing and synchronicity with reliable room-rouser Fugazi’s “Waiting Room.”

And then there was a mystery song that fell somewhere along the spectrum of cover and original. Was that David Bowie’s “Heroes” we were hearing? But then it segued into strange places and became a different song. Somewhere Brian Eno was itching his inner wrist.