Clutch Grabwell

The best time possible for your entertainment dollar

by John O'Neill

The view from the pool tables of Jillian's, which are actually behind the "stage," was somewhat surreal. Having tottered off into the side room to take a pee and check out the snowboard game, I returned just a few minutes later to find Clutch Grabwell in full effect. Trombonist Lennie Peterson (a local illustrator whose work appears in the Worcester Phoenix) was on top of some poor couple's table spread out, dug in, and taking an extended solo; while vocalist John Boyle, the gravelly-voiced super-nerd, seemed lost in the vibe from his vantage point -- which for this particular song happened to be the top of the speaker column. Laid out flat on his belly, teeth grit, and glasses fogging, Boyle jerked and shimmied like some polyester bull rider, nearly toppling the whole sound stack in the process (which, given the quality of sound this particular evening, may have been premeditated retribution). The up-till-then reserved audience responded by leaving its seats and shaking its tail feather; and more than a couple of pool games had come to a complete halt: the eight ball took a back seat to stares-in-disbelief. That, dear friends, is the power of rock and roll. It's also an average night out for the boys of Clutch Grabwell.

"We like to put on a good show and make people say, `You know, every time we see these guys we have a shitload of fun,'" says Boyle of his on-stage persona. "I just think it should be fun. A lot of singers have great voices, but they look at their feet. I don't play an instrument, so I gotta do something!"

Founded six years ago, with the current line-up in tact for the past four, Clutch Grabwell arguably have become the most popular band on the Worcester club scene, averaging three plum gigs a month (they hit Rox's this Friday, November 27, and the Plantation Club next weekend). A fact that's even more impressive when you consider their home base is the South Shore and they tour New England almost non-stop, because they're just as popular everywhere else.

"I wish I could consider [Worcester] home, but it's an hour ride," says Boyle, who, when not in nut-mode with the band, lives a very Underdog-style life as a mild-mannered frozen-foods manager for a major metropolitan grocery store. "The people of Worcester have received us so well, they've been really accepting of out original stuff."

Clutch's popularity in town has been hard-earned, and that's the result of a very patient and calculating band. Unlike their live image of hard-rocking goofballs, the band are a smart bunch of fellas that has slowly built a massive grassroots regional audience with a relatively unique style of music that appeals to the beer drinker in everyone. Able to rope in the cover-band crowd with their maniac-intensity live show and a few choice nuggets that they put the Grabwell stamp on (their version of Blue Öyster Cult's "Godzilla" is a high-energy hoot), Clutch are also able to reach an audience that would normally be face down and drooling in their pu pu platter at a Wilber and the Dukes show. It's a powerful mix of horn-driven rock that has more teeth than your average cover band yet retains enough hooks and antics to keep those fans from running for the exit. But they also offer fans of original music something to root for with well-crafted songs and antics. That's why they've been able to sell 5000 copies of their self-titled debut CD, and it's also the reason they'll continue to win over new fans, because they keep on getting better.

"I think I'm writing better tunes than I was three years ago," says guitarist and C.G. frontal lobe Mark Campbell. The band's chief songwriter is justifiably pleased on the eve of the release of their second disc How Ya Gonna Be, a 12-song gem that's been three years in the making. It's a step forward for the band whose first CD was good, but not quite able to capture their full sound the way How Ya Gonna Be does.

"We were being pegged as a blues band by some of the clubs so the first CD we pushed the horns back in the mix. We were trying to get more of a heavy guitar sound to shake that blues image . . . and it worked," says Campbell. "This [second] album has a lot more hooks on it. It definitely has a rock sound."

Recorded at Longview Farms with Flan Flannery, the new CD should serve a duel purpose of satisfying longtime listeners and, hopefully, of stirring up some interest from the powers-that-be in the record industry. Because, though Clutch Grabwell have been more than happy to provide you with the best time possible for your entertainment dollar, they've also had their eyes on that just-out-of-reach cookie jar on the counter called national success. How Ya gets them a few inches closer, but they aren't in any hurry just yet. Having effectively planned out every aspect of their career thus far, they figure to continue playing the game by their own rules as much as possible.

"Hopefully we can get signed by a decent label and tour" says Boyle pragmatically. "I think young bands make the mistake of jumping on the road and eating corn flakes and bologna. I'd like to see backing."

"The whole idea is to get this thing shopped to a label," adds Campbell. "We have an attorney, and Longview has given us lots of support with industry contacts. We've done the club and ski resort thing. Now it's time to get to the next level."

Sir Morgan's Cove update

The word, delivered exactly one hour before we go to press, is that Sir Morgan's Cove will cease to exist under the Cove's name, and owner Neil Newman is finally cashing in his chips. The rumors, some quite elaborate, have been flying for the better part of the past two months that the Cove was against the ropes. And now it's official as the curtain will be brought down for certain at year end, and possibly right after Chillum's gig on Saturday night to re-open for a final two-week blowout in mid-December. Plans have yet to be finalized for current management's farewell party.

The club will always be remembered as the place that the Stones played, all those years ago, but the Cove, open for three decades, was certainly a lot more to a lot of people. The draft beer was lousy due to the long tap lines, the neighborhood was sketchy, and women hated the place in general, but it was one club that was willing to take a chance on pretty much any local band. Maybe the money was nonexistent for a Thursday opening slot, but it was still nonetheless a chance to play on a great stage with good sound and lights. Where else could you see a band like Dark Ages (who bought their entire back line, two roadies, and an impressive array of leather) play to 20 people like they were the second coming of White Zombie? Only the Cove.

Pending city approval, it appears the space will operate under a new name come the beginning of the year, hopefully they'll have a better chance at being dealt a good hand than the one that was dealt to owner Neil Newman.

To Neil, let us be the first to offer a deep-felt thank you for all of your efforts to make Wormtown a better place.