You don’t notice the cliques forming at the Bullfinch unless it’s a very busy night or a very quiet night.
On a crowded evening the groups clump off like sovereign states in a republic—they’re all there for the same thing, but they identify in separate sections and cultures.
There are the college cool kids, the street youth., the undergrounders, the “professionals” from bands and studios and record shops, and the shy ones by the door who aren’t sure they’re gonna stay.
On quiet nights, when the band’s not that good and everybody’s there to drink, every table in the Finch could be available and only one will be occupied to overflowing. On those nights, the crowd divides thus: those who know each other and those who don’t. And if those who don’t have the price of a pitcher and are willing to share, then they’re allowed to switch tables with alacrity.
On Friday, a conceptual dance night, half the tables in the club were removed at the request of the band—a hotshot act from a big city. The effect was doubly disorienting. You didn’t know who to hang with, there were less places in which to do it once you’d figured out the “who” part.
What confounded the most was the realization that dancing matters to our little crowd. It’s the great divider. Many us grew up despising dance clubs and everything they stood for. We might bounce vertically, or trot clockwise with elbows akimbo, but we felt that we were safely among fellow disestablishment terpsichoreans (those who are against the practice of dancing). So even an ironic performance-art oriented dance event was polarizing.
Someone we thought we knew, really knew, did some moves—as a joke, she swears—and we couldn’t contain our disbelief. A married couple did a swingdance routine they say they learned in birthing class. And the folks whom we’d swear must have insisted on attending every school dance and prom from sixth grade onwards? They sat on their hands.
Dance stance. Each to their own revolution.

Tonight: The Wonder Books, power pop that’s too good for us, at the Bullfinch… Tanglewood at Hamilton’s, with a horn section… An Evening with The Hawthornes at D’Ollaire’s. Short evening…

Magic number: 93758
Magic word: conk