The Burren is an institution in Boston (well, Somerville), which sits happily in the center of Davis Square. You can find music there every day of the week, which makes it really valuable as a community space, though it is mostly just an Irish bar. If you’re not a bar person, it might not be the venue for you, but the back room is set up to naturally focus everyone’s attention on the stage. I appreciated that, but more importantly, I appreciated the kindness of the Burren staff. They were very welcoming and sweet to me as I set up shop at the bar, pulled out a comic book, and ordered a plate of garlic mushrooms. I was having a weird day.

I went to the show because the Nervous Eaters have an interesting history and because they’re actively making music. I was surprised – and thrilled – to see their last release was in 2022, with their album Monsters + Angels. Though the album is a fun listen, what the Nervous Eaters are best at is playing live. 

The night’s opener, Dennis Brennan, is a Boston staple. If you’re in the scene, you’ll probably run into Dennis at some point, because he is very talented and seems to know everyone. Dennis has a gorgeous voice. He’s not flashy about it, but he’s an all-around musical person. He played a great, low-key opening set. 

I mentioned earlier that the show was a masterclass, and I mean it. The Nervous Eaters are much more professional than I expected, and I had high expectations. Everything about their set was tight, including their harmonies (three-part), and improvisations. They didn’t go over-the-top with anything, but their talent is undeniable. They were…tasteful. It was refreshing.

I could go on and on about the mix in the room (fantastic) and their obvious ease on the stage, but I want to highlight a couple things: their inter-member communication and the ageism we tolerate in the music community. 

These people know one another and can predict one another. It’s something you see with many bands, I’ll admit, but with the Nervous Eaters, I found myself a little awestruck. Like most professional groups, they communicated quietly and well. There were no awkward moments, and I never felt like any member got lost. Part of that is practice, of course, but a lot of it is intuition and years of understanding your bandmates. I didn’t hear many mistakes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if something had gone off the rails and I just didn’t notice. 

Though the original crowd was smaller, by the end of their set, several more people had coughed up the $20 cover (steep, but worth it) who didn’t seem familiar with their music. The center of the room, previously empty, had bodies in it – dancing bodies. The dancers, many quite young, were really going for it. It was great to see. 

That said, the best people in the room were original fans. I mentioned before that I started the night in the corner with some mushrooms and a comic book, but I was quickly adopted by two punk rock elders who were by far the coolest people I’ve ever met. One of them has a metal music podcast, and the other spent the time between sets telling me about watching the band cut its teeth in a disgusting punk bar in the 70s. She bartended. 

One of the first things said to me was “I’m 75 fuckin’ years old,” like it was the best thing you could be. Honestly, she might be right. The Nervous Eaters are in the same age bracket, and the practice/years they’ve put into their instruments is obvious. They’re stupidly good at what they’re doing.

I sometimes worry about young bands because they often have a “tightrope” vibe while playing. It’s like they know, and know we know, that something’s going to go wrong. Maybe someone’s staring at their instrument, desperately hoping they play the right notes, or maybe the mix is really, really bad, etc. I just want everyone to do well. I get anxious. 

I was so relaxed at this show. I even let my new friends pull me into the center of the room to dance. I want every band in the area to see these people live. The show was fun, impressive, and the band just looked comfortable. 

There are so many things the scene can learn from the older crowd. I wish I saw them out – en masse – more. There are music-specific lessons you can take away, of course, but their sheer lack of shame and bravery is liberating. They are way more punk rock than the rest of us and it’s high time we admitted it.

Anyway, my point is this: go to these legacy shows. Maybe you’ll learn something.

Author:

Milo, Editor – BLTN