It’s rare to find crusty members of society’s upper echelons in dive bars in Jamaica Plain, but the Midway isn’t any old dive bar anymore, and sometimes the knickered and powder-wigged citizen of yesteryear likes to show up there to rocque out with bandmates.
I have to remind myself whenever I go to a music venue that closes at 2 in the a.m. that the headliner isn’t going to show up until some pretty late hour. But with it well past midnight and no Upper Crust in sight, I was beginning to wonder if I’d make it to the end. Of course, for members of the leisure class, time is a constraint that can be ignored. So I nursed a beer while bands like Top Heavy and Gene Dante and the Future Starlets played their sets.
I’m pretty talented at zoning out at 11 at night – my bedtime! – but Gene Dante isn’t easy to zone out to as he possesses a set of full-throated glam pipes (that lucky bastid!). And anyway, his lyrics are enough to wake up an old fashioned fellow such as myself (and maybe make him blush a little). Consider this nugget, called C Star, which he played on Friday night.
You’re scandalized, but it’s just a song, people! I saw Gene after the show, but failed to ask him to let me get a picture for this blog. If I had, I’d have insisted that no articles of clothing come off.