Chomping at the bit to cover my first show for Allston Pudding, I stepped through the Sinclair doors almost a full hour before the openers took the stage and three before headliners, The Ballroom Thieves. And inside was an uncanny semblance to a typical post-prom party. Two by two awkward couples were posted up against the wall, on the stairs, at the bar, slowly milking alcohol for all its social lubricant clout.