Take a turn down a residential street in one of Boston’s suburban offshoots and you arrive at -- well, nothing really. At least from the outside, there’s very little to draw your attention to one of the area’s most historically rich DIY landmarks of the last few years. At first glance, the “ER” is little more than a normal New England house. But circle round the back and you descend into a basement coated in the documentation of hundreds of underground shows. Spray paint adorns crumbling cinderblock and drywall, reflective duct tape slithers over decade-old plumbing, sharpie murals cover a winding staircase, and two sofas triumphantly sag into a corner of the foundation.

I was fortunate enough to discover this back-alley cultural shrine on account of DEWEY, a three-piece group from the area that played at the ER on July 7th to celebrate the debut of their EP, Culdesac. The alt rock group shared the stage with Tenderheart Bitches, Salty Greyhound, and Covey. Lasting about three hours, the show was a animated parade of true community. With little more than a couple feet between the mic stand and a sweaty mass of kids, each group intermingled with the crowd in their own way. At one point a vocalist went shirtless to smear paint across his chest and the bodies of his bandmates. The atmosphere in the room was ripe with energy and warmth.

In a sea of swirling lights with a strawberry-red electric bass in hand, Annie Melden, the frontwoman to DEWEY, made her entrance in golden-brown overalls and a glitter-painted face. Backed by Graham Cooke on guitar and Evan Linsey on drums, the trio unloaded a set of five songs. Among them were “Horoscopes.com,” the opening track to the EP that discusses looking up a potential partner’s astrology stats, and “When I Get Off,” a track about... getting off.

“The DIY community supports people who tell real stories, who tell different stories,” Melden told me over some barbecue a day later. “Can you imagine going into a room and playing songs that maybe only women will relate to, or maybe only queer folks will relate to? Maybe the average straight dude won’t get what the fuck you’re talking about at all. But in this community, you never really have to go into a space like that. You’re going to go into a space where at least one person in the room is going to get what you’re talking about. And that’s so rare.”

Now out of college, Melden splits her time between making music and freelancing as a videographer. But she has little intention of stepping away from the DIY scene. The culture that surrounds the ER and similar basement shows is beaming with admiration, visibility, and care. Unlike the common house parties indigenous to so many college towns, there seems to be a tangible respect not just for the spaces, but for those who occupy them and their stories. It’s been this communal support that led in part to the formation of DEWEY, Melden told me.

But there was one more indispensable ingredient that brought us the trio and their EP. Late last year, Melden experienced a colossal wave of disruption -- her previous band had split up, she had lost her job, and was suddenly bedridden with a herniated disc. Seemingly backed into a corner, she picked up her bass and decided it was time to start writing. What followed was the cleanest breath of musical autonomy and self-definition she had ever taken.

“That level of solitude -- being injured and depressed -- there’s something that music does that Netflix murder shows cannot do,” Melden said, now giggling at herself six months later. “I don’t know if I ever would have had the time -- I don’t know if I ever would have made the time. It was a lot of sitting in my room with my bass, which was when I fell in love with the bass. It’s such a friendly instrument. Anyone can play the bass. It’s like crayons.”

With several years of songwriting already under her belt, and the DIY community welcoming her with open arms, DEWEY arrived at Melden’s doorstep more organically than anticipated. The perfect storm had left her with nothing to do but blossom.

“I think I’ve written more songs in the past six months than I have in my whole life,” she told me. “I don’t know what’s changed, whether it’s the confidence to just fucking do it, or the support from other people being like ‘Yeah, I’m here for you.’ For the first time I feel like, ‘Oh, yeah, this is what I want to be doing.’ That’s next-level empowering. And the response has been incredible.”

In spite of DEWEY’s tranquil shoegaze tendencies, the set concluded with an ecstatic and airborne Melden. The audience’s connection to the group was brazen, echoing the distortion with their own howling. Moments after the applause, the lead singer was greeted with a flood of hugs and praise.

“That was fun! That was so fun,” she called out, half surprised. By the time I parsed through the crowd to offer my own acclaim, Melden was vibrating with glee.

Listen to the full EP here.

Image: Kaya Blaze Kelly