If the heady waft of herbs hanging in the air doesn’t smack you on the way in, then walk into the Milton Theatre space at the Studio Theatre and it won’t take long before you figure out where you’ve landed. There may not be a contact high, but you don’t have to be a fan of Jerry Garcia to understand you’ve been transported from the hip urbanitas of 14th Street below to the neglected back lot of a small business establishment. With or without refreshment, this is a fine place to stay.

Littered with empty cups and a trail of cigarette butts, Daniel Conway’s set looks exactly the way a Ray LaMontagne song feels, all gritty reality poised like a painting of mundane beauty. It’s here, among the clay pot ashtray hiding beneath one lone picnic table, a few utilities scattered in plain sight, some old lawn chairs and an array of garbage bins belonging to the Green Sheep coffeehouse, we meet the titular misfits in Annie Baker’s “The Aliens.”