I remember the first time I listened to Duster –– it was a random grunge album that I found on Spotify back in 2019, the muffled vocals and distorted guitar drawing me inward as I slowly added half of their discography to my playlists, already full of artists like Radiohead and Slowdive. Since then, I’ve maintained a healthy appreciation for Duster’s music. When I saw their Boston concert tickets going for $40 last week, I figured, why not check it out?
I was on the 6:45 p.m. shuttle to Marlboro Market as doors opened at the House of Blues, listening to Duster’s setlist as we crossed the Charles River. Before long, I’d made it to the front door, my 19-year-old hands complete with two Sharpie X’s as I made it through security. Having never covered a concert for press reasons before, I wasn’t aware that I couldn’t bring my professional (and rented) camera inside the venue, but security workers kindly allowed me to store it in the coat check for $5 instead of kicking me out of the building. Grateful, I took a long glance around the lobby –– my first time in the House of Blues felt more familiar than I’d expected; with charming rock paraphernalia posted around every corner, I found myself reminded of venues like Whisky a Go Go and The Wiltern back in Los Angeles (my hometown). Duster’s opener, Dirty Art Club, could be heard through the large double doors leading into the auditorium.
As I walked in, Dirty Art Club played relaxed electronica at a DJ Booth set up on stage, a projector screen displaying abstract visuals behind the booth. The crowd gathered on the floor, talking amongst themselves and waiting for the band to come out. I took my spot in the merch line and observed the audience; I saw a lot of people around my age, a lot of tall lanky dudes (as a shorter person, I take note of this when choosing where to stand in a crowd) and well-dressed alternative-esque women. Conversely, I also saw a lot of men who seemed to be the same age as the band members themselves; lifelong fans of the band ever since their first albums came out in the late 1990s. These 30-40 year-olds mainly hung by the bars and periphery of the hall, while the younger generations carefully staked out their spots on the floor.
About a half-hour after I arrived, Dirty Art Club exited the stage as the audience cheered. Anxious and still waiting in the merch line, I watched to see if the band would be coming out. The band emerged as I checked out, guitars pounding the opening of their first song, “The Twins / Romantica.” The crowd stood and swayed, entranced by the members on stage, nodding their heads along to the melancholy rhythms. A dreamy distorted guitar riff ended the song as the audience roared. A brief pause elapsed before the next song; I moved down further along the floor and situated myself as the lights changed colors. Metalheads and indie listeners alike faced the music, possessed and entranced. As Duster moved through the setlist, I migrated to different points in the crowd.
Having attended a Beabadoobee concert a few weeks ago, I noted the differences between their crowds: fewer phones blocked the stage at this show as people seemed to be enjoying the moment, but the crowd at the Beabadoobee concert definitely had more energy. Duster’s music isn’t exactly the type to scream out along a crowd; it’s unhurried, more pensive, and the type of slowcore that invites a sort of dreamy trance to come over everyone all at once. Propped behind the lighting booth, I watched the operator adjust some switches and cover the hall in orange hues as the band played once more. As “Me and the Birds” began, suddenly the crowd was the most animated they’d been all night, cheering and taking out their phones with smiles before the song’s rhythm settled in.
As Duster played their second-to-last song of the evening, I caught someone waving around a cat stuffed animal, referencing the cat featured front-and-center on Duster’s self-titled album cover, known colloquially as the “Cat Album.” Warmth radiated off the stage as the sweet song “Constellations” closed out the show. Maybe it was the sentimentality of seeing everyone in the crowd prepare to depart the concert hall and re-enter the world, but I suddenly felt an urgent need to acquire a stuffed Duster cat of my own. I rushed back to the merch stand before exiting and there it was: ridiculously overpriced and equally ridiculous looking, I ended my night by making a “wise” financial decision and purchasing a $25 Duster cat. Though the concert wasn’t exactly the type of heart-racing rush that typically comes to mind when I think of a night out in Boston, it was a joy to experience in-person the music, audience and atmosphere. To anyone debating their plans for upcoming weekends, I implore you to check online for any cheap concert tickets –– you never know what you may find!
Contact the editors responsible for this article: Ivy Buck, Anabelle Meyers
