More Crust, Please
Andrew Neumann) that the esteemed Davis Square nightclub Johnny D’s would be closing its doors to make way for a four story apartment building (whut?!), I had the singular privilege of being treated to a set of the good ol’ Rocque and Roll by My Lords “The Upper Crust,” those genteel old fahts, in the very same (doomed) Somervillian eating and rocquing venue.On the night that I learned (from the famous artist
Though reputed to be gentlemen of leisure (as well as friends of friends of the working class), the crusty gents on stage worked a fair bit harder than much of the rabble in attendance (my friends and I), cranking out the hard rock in powdered wigs, buckled platform shoes, frilled shirts, and knicker-esque leggings.
Memories of past Upperly Crusty shows are of the turned up noses and hilarious inter-song banter, but this show reminded me yet again that these transplants from the 18th century are rather expert hard rockers (hear, hear!).
The crowd included actual rabble rousers who forced the show to end early by starting a melee, but fortunately that happened at the very end of the night, within a song or two of the natural end of the evening, when we should have been non-violently shouting “encore!” It meant the unique synergy of Johnny D’s and The Upper Crust ended on a sour note. Alas, not every member of our citizenry is of proper breeding.