I'd been Downstairs. Many times. But Downstairs was narrow and always overcrowded and ever since they installed those fireproof doors, it seemed to push 212^o by night's end.

Then on November 21, 1997, I saw my first show Upstairs: Eric Bachmann solo. He wasn't playing Archer of Loaf tunes. He didn't even have a backup band. He just stood atop the tattered oriental rug that garnishes the tiny stage only half a foot higher than the rest of the room and played and talked. At the time I thought it was like he "plugged into an amp in my living room, played a couple of tunes, and then hung around to chat over drinks."

In a word: intimate.

Now I love seeing shows at the Middle East Upstairs. The stage is makeshift and the sound system never has enough vocals in the monitor, no matter how much the performers plead, but it's my favorite venue in Boston/Cambridge. There's something so garage about it. Something so conversational and spontaneous. You can coax Elizabeth Elmore into playing a song she hasn't played out in over two years. And Jeff Graham will jump on stage three quarters of the way through True Love Always' "Sunshine" to pick up the duet part.

When you're Upstairs, you sometimes have to clap extra loud because you're only one of twenty-five people in the room and usually half of those people leave before the last band goes onstage because they have to catch the T to get home. You're likely to find your favorite WMBR DJs taking in a show but you may get run over by a man with a snare drum while you're waiting in line to buy a cd from the bass player. If it's a band or an artist you love, or even like the slightest little bit, an evening in their presence Upstairs is going to earn an infinite number of gold stars for being a uniquely personal moment in your life.

Intimate. Definitely.