By: Áine Mullaly

Brooklyn Steel is definitely one of my least favorite music venues in New York; it is a 16+ venue I frequented in high school that I now try my best to avoid, in part due to its irritating age demographic as well as an eerie familiarity that brings to mind memories of my own teenage past. 

However, when tickets went on sale for Duster’s show at Brooklyn Steel on April 15th, I figured, why not? A slowcore indie band that released the bulk of their discography in the late 90s, while still relatively popular among alternative circles today, could not have a very insufferable crowd, I reasoned. I imagined a lot of guys in their late twenties nodding their heads to soft drums and progressions of seventh chords. Nothing I have not dealt with before. 

After having my ID meticulously checked by a skeptical bouncer, I purchased my $13 Miller High Life, glanced at some overpriced tee shirts that read “Duster,” in an all lowercase sans serif font, and I decided to bite the bullet and finally enter the cavernous void of general admission. I caught the end of the opener, the soft-spoken indie band called Widowspeak. However, as they finished and the crowd began anxiously waiting for Duster’s appearance, I began to become very aware of my surroundings.

Brooklyn Steel is a giant, gaping mouth of standing in a room that seems to stretch backward for half a mile. As opposed to its wider counterpart, Brooklyn Monarch, it is set up like a long, narrow rectangle. This means that if you are an average sized adult woman like myself, one six foot four man standing anywhere in between you and the stage will completely ruin your view. I’m pretty used to this – as long as I can close my eyes, sip my overpriced beer, and hear the band, I’m happy. That being said, my attitude changes when everyone around me is a boy in the junior class of LaGuardia high school, shouting and barking at each other like dogs. I tried my best to give them grace. Teenage boys have scared me before, during, and after my own teenagehood.

The band finally emerged, and the crowd seemed to subdue a bit. They opened with a soft performance of The Twins / Romantica; somehow the approximately 45 year old, heavily bearded vocalist still managed to sound like the teenage boys that occupied the crowd. This is an impressive feat that I have noticed consistently when I see bands that released most of their music 10-15 years ago (ie Unwound, Have a Nice Life). 

When the band broke into the harder-hitting song Orbitron to follow, the crowd roared in response. I watched some kids open up a mosh pit toward the front. Good for them. As Duster progressed into a soft, emotional rendition of Inside Out, their song with the most Spotify plays, an obviously intoxicated couple began to egregiously make out and grind on each other to the point where they were bumping into my friend next to me. For the next three or four songs, there was no means by which to escape – it felt like an eternity. Heading for the Door will never sound the same to me. Finally, during Chocolate and Mint, a space opened up to our left and we were able to flee the presence of the horrible drunk couple. I was able to enjoy the rest of the show with as much peace that could be gathered from being surrounded by 16 year old boys.

The pit of children opened up once again during the band’s performance of Echo, Bravo. I paused to acknowledge how impressed I was by how good the band sounded for playing most of their releases from Stratosphere, their 1998 album. All of the songs sounded almost exactly like the studio versions, both instrumentally and vocally. I thoroughly enjoyed the entire performance. 

As Duster gently finished with Stars Will Fall, I reflected on my experience. I do wish that I could have seen the band in a smaller, more intimate setting, due to the soft nature of the music. My friends and I concluded that one of their songs must have gone viral on TikTok to explain the occupancy of so many kids at the show. Pretentious and cynical as I know I can be, I’m glad that these kids are able to go to shows and enjoy them in the same exciting way I did. Maybe they’ll also try and sneak into a bar afterward and forget to close their tabs. In the meantime, I am going to continue to avoid Brooklyn Steel.