Milk Crate @ NICE, A Fest 2024!
Graphic by Sofia Giarrusso w/ NICE design assets by Jane Fitzsimmons
By nathan hilyard & sofia giarrusso
NICE, a Fest returned to Somerville with its most expansive line-up thus far, filling Davis Square with four days of music, art, and community from July 25th to the 28th. Organized by local booking company Get To The Gig Boston, NICE has been showcasing some of Boston’s best indie musicians since 2021. Your favorites from the basements of Allston to DIY venues in Cambridge dazzled throughout the Crystal Ballroom, the Rockwell, and a brand-new outdoor stage. Art, vintage, and other vendors populated Statue Park by way of Small Mart Market–a pop-up collective that vends all around the greater Boston area.
NICE isn’t complete without partnerships that all played a part in rounding out the enthusiasm of the weekend. The festival’s merchandise containing hand-printed t-shirts, beer koozies, and pennant flags all were created by Speakeasy Print Shop from Salem, MA. Keeping the sets in the Rockwell fresh and visually stimulating was Digital Awareness–a team of live visual experts equipped with cameras and fancy engineering equipment that we aren’t smart enough to explain to you. Other sponsorships directly benefited attendees through free Topo Chico drinks at Crystal Ballroom, a collaboration brew with Remnant Brewing, and the infamous Grillo’s Pickles pickle-shaped kiddy ride.
NICE, a Fest understands its brand, audience, and potential to a T. The result was unabashed excitement. In fact, NICE felt more like a reunion and mass acknowledgment of the community rather than strictly a music festival. An all-around nice time, some may say.
It’s no surprise that we at Milk Crate are suckers for the music! So, we tried our darn best to catch as many musicians that NICE had to offer. Check out our individual set vignettes and playlist below of some of our favorite music from the event!
Day 1 (Thursday, July 25)
NICE’s four-day soiree started modestly with five acts rocking out the Crystal Ballroom on Thursday. Despite the opening day’s limited programming compared to the rest of the weekend to follow, the initial energy for NICE was off-the-charts. It was nice (c’mon, it’s too good not to milk (double pun!)) to witness the community concentrated in one place.
Sweet Petunia
Kicking off the festival was this folksy-duo, Sweet Petunia! May I add, a new favorite of mine that I may have never discovered if not for NICE! Maddy and Mairead’s modest, yet lively set supplied the perfect demonstration of what Boston has to offer: TALENT! Because, oh boy, are these two skillful. Their harmonies lit up the Crystal Ballroom with the fervor of a six-piece band as their guitar and banjo strumming layered in a complex fashion. “Quilt Too Big to Fold” stood out for its earnest lyricism and just lovely vocal performances. Chef’s kiss to y'all, Sweet Petunia!
Pink Navel
Dev of Pink Navel is a one-person act that isn’t afraid to get silly. Equipped with a soundboard, a microphone, and a vision, Dev put on one of the most entertaining sets of the weekend. It’s not easy to place Pink Navel into a box, their mix of rap, slam, electronic, and experimental blended seamlessly with NICE’s totally joyous and mostly unserious vibe. Much of their lyricism relies on nihilism and comedy with one of my favorite lines being, “I feel like I’m Blart,” assuming that the Blart in question is thee Paul Blart Mall Cop. And if I completely messed up that interpretation, my apologies Dev.
Rusty Mullet
Despite the bittersweetness of this set, rock band Rusty Mullet wowed the Crystal Ballroom with their shred-lord skills. This show at NICE is possibly their last in Boston as lead singer, Dirt, is moving to Berlin. She thanked the crowd for following the band around Allston basements for eight years in between the band’s face-melting guitar solos and roaring vocals. Infectious, loud, and unapologetic, “Murder on the Space Train” proved to be an audience favorite with head-banding galore. Rusty Mullet may just be the most inviting punk band I’ve ever witnessed, and thank goodness I did.
Day 2 (Friday, July 26)
Bus Crush
Ripping through new releases at their debut live performance, Bus Crush quickly proved they’re ones to watch. Their infancy to the stage translated into a wonderfully rough-edged show as the group played with the excitement of striking something great for the first time. “Even Score” was a highlight with warbling guitars and teasing vocals leading us right to a crashing groove. Bands like Bus Crush are what make NICE, a Fest so exciting: seeing these acts right as they harness their sound. We’re sure to see nothing but good things from Bus Crush to come.
Hannah Mohan
Taking the Crystal Ballroom stage Friday night, Hannah Mohan’s charm led the audience right into her work as she played songs from her new album, Time Is A Walnut. Mohan’s music is inviting, the fug of a campfire story with a lilting indie rock sound. Her songs heal just as they forgive. Take for example, “Soaked,” which aligns jumping up from a nightmare (“I’m soaked / Straight through my underwear”) and that all consuming breakup malaise. “This one’s for the couch potatoes,” she began. By the end of the set, Mohan suited up with an accordion and was quickly met by chirps of appreciation from the crowd. Closing out the set, breathing life through the wheezing instrument, her whistles, clean and clear, riding off into the sunset.
Mallcops
After several hours of live music, my sore, Conversed-feet were urging me out the door and down the street to the T-stop, but just a few bars into Mallcops’ set and suddenly my feet were ready to jump around and enjoy a few more tunes. Mallcops overflow with that emo charm, grinning ear to ear as they ripped through “Parks and Altars” and “Coffee and Tea.” The Boston band has been releasing singles throughout the past few months as they gear up for their second album. You can (and should) catch Mallcops at their upcoming show on September 6th at the Brighton Music Hall.
Day 3 (Saturday, July 27)
The Calendars
The Calendars have been a long time local favorite for me with songs like “You’ll Never Know Why” showcasing the band’s home-spun energy and rickety feel. Though “You’ll Never Know Why” didn’t make an appearance, their set was ripe with cynicism and hilarity. On that day, they were an almost eight person ensemble, all set at different levels. The bass player stood on a chair, one player sat on the floor, the lead singer Dew Myron centered in front of the drum set and four singers around one microphone mentioned in passing as the “Canadian Children’s Choir.” They ripped through beloved hits like “Tacos, Pizza and Corndogs,” “You Drink,” and the gloriously, hilariously blasphemous “Jesus.” A Calendars show is a thing of wit and spontaneity, so strap in and get ready to be wonderfully puzzled.
Palehound
Palehound took the mainstage Saturday evening and quickly captured the hearts of a devoted crowd. I’ll admit I’m new to their music, but gauging by the amount of joyful squeals and sung-lyrics, Palehound fans ride for lead singer El Kempner and crew. The band jumped into their latest record, Eye on the Bat, ripping through the title track and “The Clutch” with dextrous guitar licks that took on a life of their own. Watching Palehound was like watching a finely tuned car take life, the band revved and swirled around each other with a precision that can only come from deep trust. And it’s clear how much they love each other and the city of Boston, Kempner affectionately recalling how many of the bandmates met at a house show in Allston. A Palehound show is bursting at the seams with love, stitched affectionately together by memories, good and bad alike.
Gymshorts
A surprise favorite roared through the door frame of the Crystal Ballroom as I walked back from the mainstage. I wasn’t too sure who was playing, but quickly smiled ear to ear as frontwoman Sarah Greenwell hopped into the audience: “It’s fucking Saturday night, let’s MOVE!” The set moved as a break-neck pace, jumping between stories and lyrics, younger fans two-stepped and moshed as Greenwell screamed the witty, pissed off mantras that make punk so fun: “The punks say zero fucks given, I say zero thanks given!” It was beautiful to see a crowd so engaged. Greenwell struck at the heart of NICE, a Fest; look how much fun we can have, right here in our own backyard.
Ovlov
A surprise addition to the lineup after Grass is Green’s unfortunate drop from the festival, Ovlov took the stage on frontman Steve Hartlett’s self proclaimed, “Worst day of my life.” But that didn’t stop the group from ripping through some gems. As they warmed into the set (and the audience called out to Hartlett that the Yankees had achieved a tie), they soon shifted into gear with that gripping, torn-edge Ovlov sound. Being one of the loudest shows I’ve ever seen live, Ovlov is an ode to the fuzz, the group sipping beer and, despite being allegedly the worst day ever, playing through a catalog of hits with ease.
Day 4 (Sunday, July 28)
Misuser
Talk about cool! Misuser is an edgy act that utilizes electronic sounds to their greatest advantage. Maria-Elena Kaser is not afraid to get gritty with dark lyricism, booming synthesizers, and even a dazzling Arca cover. Untraditionally, Kaser stood off of Rockwell's stage to face her band, fully in the zone. Digital Awareness’ visuals completely emphasized the experimental appeal of Misuser with grainy, mindfuckery. All-in-all, the experience felt simultaneously spiritual and sacrilegious which made it all the more memorably awesome.
Corporeal
Corporeal is an act best suited for a Gregg Araki film…and they know it. Melodic and moody, the band brought shoegaze to the Crystal Ballroom with suave and stinging blank stares. Corporeal proves that experimental music isn’t strictly in allegiance with modern technological warfare, equipped with the classic guitar, bass, and drum trio along with some pedal action. Their performance was a highlight reel of what they do best, the washes of color and sound built from a brand new generation of angst.
The Croaks
We stumbled halfway into this set with no expectations, but were quickly drawn to the palpable energy of this four-piece act. Punky sometimes, and folky other times, the Croaks were decked out to the nines for their set at Crystal Ballroom. A high-point was “Big Bug,” an at-first unassuming song that exponentially evolved into a punk anthem with a breakdown as juicy as when you finally squish that big ass bug. We even caught what we could best describe as a pitch perfect dolphin call somewhere in that track. One for the NICE, a Fest-ages, truly.
GIFT
GIFT took the Crystal Ballroom stage late on Sunday afternoon. The New York City band immediately dove into bright, guitar driven washes of sound. Drawing color from the droning synths, the songs built and crashed over smooth vocals. GIFT songs were just that: bright, generous offerings to the crowd. A majority of the tracks were from their upcoming second album, Illuminator, which releases on August 23rd.
Model/Actriz
Monday morning, as the sun rises over a sleepy Davis square, employees of the Somerville Theater will flick on the lights to find the room coated with dust and debris, cracks webbing across the ceiling like some big silly animal had been dancing just upstairs. Precisely just that happened Sunday night in the Crystal Ballroom as Model/Actriz closed out NICE, a Fest, calling out at the beginning of the set “I know the signs say no moshing, but I want you to break the FUCKING floor.”
Model/Actriz was my most anticipated set of the weekend by far, and as House of Harm’s millennial crowd shuffled out of the pit, they took the stage quietly, checking their amps and fiddling with cords. Lead singer Cole Haden christened the performance by donning a glittering baseball hat, set to match a silver stoned clutch and chunky black pumps. Just as the band set in motion with the low creeping intro of “Donkey Show,” Haden ceremoniously lined his lips in red lipstick. As the song built, the crowd quickly became energized, throwing each other back and forth, the band rippingly loud, “All night, me and my wretched device!” Haden screamed.
The Brooklyn quartet’s music walks a delicate line where sexuality borders pain; romance borders possession. In their debut album, Dogsbody, Haden’s lyrics describe queer sex in this thrilling, uncharted gray area of wait-we’re-supposed-to-do-what? The thrill is just as prominent as the risk: “There’s something about the grip on me,” he sings on “Slate,” a song that gathers tension like a good slasher film. Anticipation and fear trickle through his vocals: “Eye to eye to eye to, I do, I belong to him,” and just as soon the band is searingly hot, walls of sound punch down on the crowd, Haden screams, “I keep giving it away cause I got what it takes!”
The crowd embodies the music perfectly. Packed into the relatively small pit of the Crystal Ballroom, it’s hard to tell who’s limb is who’s. Sweaty backs shove into one another, joining the mosh is more a temptation than a choice. I, usually quite shy, especially when in a crowd of strangers, was sucked in faster than my indecision could keep me back. I saw photographers abandon their cameras and jump into the thresh, I saw someone toss aside their flip flops, and Holden himself spent about half the set in the crowd, pulling people close and whispering lyrics in their ears. Fans froze like deer in headlights as his overwhelming presence stared them down.
For “Winnipesaukee” Holden hobbled around like an old man, using the mic stand as a crutch, Jack Wetmore’s guitar creeping around in webbed arpeggios. By the closer, “Pure Mode,” the crowd was panting, begging for more. In the quiet moments of creeping, spindly instruments Holden shoved the microphone down his pants and humped the monitor, feedback spurring out with each thrust as a side-eyeing security guard shuffled out of the way. By the final song, the pit smelled like a locker room, an almost perfect metaphor for the fear-driven, hypersexual, hyper-queer performance. In the final lines of the show, the room gave it their all, Holden’s whispers fill the space like a divine vision, “I don’t mean to scare you but I can’t talk right now,” and then in a climactic release, “I will tear you apart!”
Model/Actriz gave me a night to remember, the kind of concert a gay loser sixteen year old dreams about. Stepping back out into Davis Square, I popped open the can of Topo Chico I’d been saving for later in my pocket and it burst in a shower of white foam, “…bleeding over / Onto my jaw / Onto my neck / Pours out of my hands.” The energy of the show was transmuted into Topo Chico suds, but I’m quite sure that’s not the liquid Holden was singing about.