"... more focused and dangerous than ever ..." - wt&g

Monday, November 9th, 2015

Friday, November 20 at The Tinker's Son in Norwell, MA

How ya gonna be now?  Was that obvious enough for ya?  Listen, we can't make it any easier for you ... we're going to f#cking kill it, and there's no damn cover.
 
Seriously.
 
What more do you want.
 
Let me tell you a story ...
 
I went to college up in beautiful Lowell, Massachusetts in the early 90s (I started in Worcester at another school, but staying up late and access to lots of booze made class a secondary priority, but more at another time ...) Anyways, Lowell was not the place it is now.  It was mostly dilapidated buildings (and classrooms) and bars whose major attractions included 16 oz. Old Milwaukee drafts (and transvestites ... The Laconia in the Acre if you want proof) and nightly fistfights (the PSC and Brian's (H) Ivy Hall) ... but there was one place, the Safe, that we went to pound Rolling Rocks and rip darts while listening to a lot of good local bands (Duck Duck, the Deliriants, the Shods, and more) ... That place closed years ago and was recently reopened.  Now remember, I'm crushing it up there through the mid 90s.  So, me and some of the boys go up there to check out "the scene" and the Safe is opened up again and charging $5 to see a Stone Temple Pilots tribute band, and a Guns N Roses tribute band.  So, I pay $5 to see a bunch of dudes ape a band that I listened to when they first came out at the same bar.  I'm sure there's a term for it, but I call it "wow, music sucks today."  Then I go around the corner to the old Pollards/Smithwicks/Evos that we used to play, and they're charging a $20 cover ...
 
... for a DJ ...
 
... did that sink in yet? ...
 
...$20 ...
 
... for a DJ ...
 
Seriously, if I've completely f#cked this up, please let me know.  But, if you guys want to pay me $20 to come over my house and listen to me play music off my iPod or MacBook, let me know, because I will crush you with everything from Slayer to Neil Diamond.  And then you can leave.
 
So where am I going with this ...
 
... Clutch Grabwell ...
 
... fantastic musicians (OK, bass player excluded but say it to my face) ...
 
... great songs, great playing ...
 
... great bar, great food, great people ...
 
... FREE.
 
Ain't nothing for free anymore folks, and now you have an option to take advantage, or not.  Maybe not so much the Gwen Stefani/Miranda Lambert type advantage (I, personally, am troubled by who should be sullied the most) but about as good an opportunity as you're going to get.
 
So here it is: 
 
T'was in the darkest depths of Scituate, you could meet a girl so fair
But don't let Gollum and the evil one creep up and slip away with her, her, her, yeah ...
 
See you guys there.  Don't f#ck this up.
Wednesday, September 30th, 2015

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9 - One More One Last Time at The LUCKY DOG in Worcester

So, here we go again … the Lucky Dog Music Hall is now “Under Agreement” and our pal Erick Godin is moving on to better things. Now, I ain't sayin' it's closing, I'm just sayin' that Erick is not going to own it much longer.  As a result, he has asked us to come by on October 9th for one more one last time, and we have accepted the offer to bask in the sounds and the smells of this storied and magical wonderland on beautiful Green Street in Worcester.  The City of Seven Hills has had it's share of great clubs, but in terms of longevity and focus, the Lucky Dog (and it's previous namesake) have survived and thrived where others have thrown in the towel for DJs, Latin nights and the pre-or-post Palladium metal show radio broadcasts.  All fine endeavors, I'm sure, but not really something that helps a city and a scene develop an identity.  I remember years ago when there was constant scorn from the "Boston bands" (like the guys who grew up in Milton but claim they're from Southie) about the "495 bands" of which those in Worcester were grouped in with ... basically, central Mass was nothing but a bunch of mouth-breathing, 7-string guitar, rap metal bullshit.  Although that may have been true at one time, the biggest knock was that there was "nowhere good to play" in Worcester.  Well, along came Erick and the Lucky Dog and things changed for the better.  He put his heart and soul into the place and made it a great part of the community and the music scene, offering a lot of bands a place to perform (including a lot of shit, but I digress).  True music enthusiasts are few and far between these days, never mind one that could keep a ride like this going for 16 years.  So, our hats are off to Mr. Godin and we wish him the best with where he goes next.


Kind of crazy, huh?   Just two weeks ago we said goodbye to the Beachcomber, now the Lucky Dog.   All these ch-ch-ch-changes in the music world, all our old haunts closing or transitioning, or whatever you want to call it. Either way, it means there ain’t too many places left to play … ok, I’m not gonna get all sappy here. Life goes on … unless you’re trapped in the basement of the Plantation Club … then you probably pine away the days waiting for the sweet release of death … but this isn’t about the Plantation of the Apes, it’s about the Lucky Dog. So, help us send the place off to the next chapter on Friday, October 9, our last show at the Lucky Dog Music Hall. Don’t screw this up.
 

Wednesday, September 16th, 2015

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 18 - ONE LAST PORK AT THE BEACHCOMBER IN QUINCY

and then Saturday, September 19 we will be in western Massachusetts at Andy and Carol's.  If you know those crazy kids, then you know what's up - Jaegerbombs and Jello shots and sleeping under the pool table.  If you don't know them, well you best try and meet them or you will be spending your Saturday mowing the lawn and trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
 
Now, back to the matter at hand.  We're having an Irish wake for the Beachcomber this Friday:
 

 
Nice work by Larry AKA Kenny on that video, huh?  Yup, it's been a long run, longer than most, but all good things must come to an end.  I could go all Dylan Thomas on you and ask the Beachcomber to "rage, rage against the dying of the light" but lets go with Irving Berlin and say "the song has ended but the melody lingers on ..."  And there you have it.
 
I ranted last time about the demise of not only the Beachcomber, but the club scene and culture in general, so I won't bore you with more of that.  But, we here at Clutch Grabwell Industries have a great deal of respect for the place, a place we have dedicated lots of time, sweat, blood, energy and madness to over the years.  It was a great trip, and to celebrate ... I am dead serious here ...
 
... limited run ...
 
... on sale Friday night ...
 
... the Clutch Grabwell vs The Beachcomber commemorative t-shirt ...
 
Front:

 
Back:

 
Whatchadinkjesh?  See, this is how much we love the place.  I bet all the other bands are stealing photos off the wall, if they even decide to show up.  Damn, I was hoping to go an entire update without being bitter.
 
BACK TO BEING HAPPY!  Can't wait to see folks this weekend!  Remember, keep it greasy so it goes down easy ...
Tuesday, August 25th, 2015

A Final Goodbye to The Beachcomber … Friday, September 18 …

Well, there it is. This is it.  After all the speculation and newspaper stories, the Beachcomber is retiring to join some of its friends like the Yardrock, the Alternate Route, The Odyssey, President's Rock Club (and whatever the hell else it was called), TTs, Johnny D's and the cornucopia of clubs that thrived for awhile, but eventually moved on.  The Beachcomber was definitely the elder statesman in the batch - 57 years I think?  That's one hell of a run for a live music club in this day and age of - let's face it - shit.  Seriously, the final shows at the Beachcomber are looking like a regular month from back in the day - Mudhens, Cattunes, us ... all they need is one of PD's bands and some of the GB bullshit from back in the day and it's September 2001.  Where are all the new bands that busted their asses, played well, and got people out to the club over the last 15 years?  I guess they were too busy on their Macbooks trying to write some fresh beats or auditioning for American Idol or any of those throwaway shitshows.  Good luck next generation, you guys are fucked.  See, even if someone under the age of 25 does form a band that's any good, there will be nowhere for them to play, save a few "indie shows" at the Allston basement of some fat girl and her fat roommates and then the band will have to blast them a few in order to say "hey, thanks for the PBRs and Domino's, oh, and the place to play out electronicascreamocore rubbish for you and your sweaty friends."  Does that sound like a good time?  No?  Good, because it isn't.  No one should have to prostitute themselves to get their music heard, unless it really does suck, and it that case, fuck them.  But, what I'm trying to say is while you dopes sat behind your computers stealing the latest Drake record and playing Call of Duty on the Xbox, you assisted in developing the cultural wasteland you're in now ... so, no more live music venues for you, but I'm sure the lobster mac and cheese will be delicious.  Make sure you post a review on yelp!  Assholes ...
 
Anyway, after some schedule shifting by a few of the guys, we have graciously accepted Friday, September 18th as the last night we will lug our stuff in there, set up, sit on the patio and crush Bud Lights (a term I used here years ago since stolen by a millionaire country singer, yet again proving that I am doomed) and play a fucking rock show.
 
Can’t wait to see some folks and wax nostalgic over the good times had over the years:
- the grouchy lady that used to waitress the far side of the dance floor – she was the best …
- the tooter girls back in the day (hey now)
- getting thrown out for trying to crowd surf back in the mid-90s
- getting drunk at the bar
- getting drunk on the patio
- getting drunk on the wall across the street when I was 14 ...
- the parking lot that turns into a swamp when it rains
- girls almost getting arrested for assaulting a police officer
- Joe Buck playing air guitar on his Budwesier bottle (“C’mon Tony! You wrote this one!”)
- Schlitz and Old Spice
- wannabe strippers getting splinters on the wooden posts on the dancefloor
- wondering what the stage looks like under the sticky rug
- stumbling through the club wondering “am I drunk, or are the floors just really warped?”
- the sinking feeling of dread when you realize you might have to go #2 in that bathroom …
 
In the end, The House That Jimmy Built is an institution, a part of Quincy history and lore. So, join us for one last time around the ring at the Beachcomber, formerly known as Nostalgia, formerly known as the Beachcomber.  We'll spin some yarns about the good old days and pound a few.  Don't screw this up.  See you there!
Thursday, July 9th, 2015
FRIDAY, JULY 10 at THE TINKER'S SON in Norwell!  NO COVER CHARGE!
 
That's right!  You have no excuse not to come out. It's Friday, Jeff just quit his job, and it's almost Mark's birthday!  Don't screw this up!
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