The Moshville Times - Gig Review: Clutch / Green Lung / Tigercub – O2 City Hall, Newcastle (12th November 2022)

It’s the tail end of the year which means every band possible is touring the UK and it wouldn’t be this time of year if Clutch weren’t getting in on the action. Fresh from Glasgow the night prior, they’ve hit the North East of England and whilst the opening band are still soundchecking, people have already turned out in their droves to see the Maryland quartet. Needless to say, given the number of people already assembled, the stories of Clutch’s die-hard fans still ring true, even if it’s been a number of years since they visited these shores.

With only a short time to impress, Tigercub allow the music to do the talking when they take to the stage. The Brighton trio are treated as if they’re hometown heroes and likewise, the band appeal to the crowd as if they’re natives. Opener “Favourite Song” is the trio simply getting warmed up – the band standing in line with each other with three sets of kit onstage, its Royal Blood vibe brings a pop tinge to the evening but immediately, you can see why they’re on this tour – they know how to rock.

Any apprehensions from their first song are immediately smashed with second song, “Sleepwalker”. Loaded with fuzz and packing a filthy-as-hell riff, they’ve found their footing and from then on, they’ve got the crowd at their command. As tight as it gets, there’s elements of stoner and psychedelic tones within to evoke hints of early Queens of the Stone Age. “Stop Beating on My Heart (Like a Bass Drum)” may be your typical moody indie pop number but live, it becomes a beast when it opens up, the imposing guitar work blending with the enormous drums and menacing bass line. Crowd suitably warmed up and departing to mighty cheers, their recorded music may seem like a strange fit but live, it works perfectly. Tigercub are definitely one of those bands who are all about the live experience.

Following a quick changeover, Green Lung take their cues and run rampant on their own short set. Taking the evening in a far more doom-laden direction, their own blend of fuzz and stoner makes them sound like Clutch Junior on paper. However, thanks to the vocals of Tom Templar, there’s more of a metallic edge to it, also showing how chameleon-like tonight’s headliners are. They’re a completely solid live act who charge through their entire set, the pounding rhythms varying from a casual head nod to a full-blown jackhammer affair. As Templar brings the energy, the rest of the band keep it low-key in order to stay out of his way.

Indeed, the quintet are another band who could feel right at home on a rock bill, metal festival or even getting things going at a punk show. It appeals to the various demographics assembled tonight as it’s all pulled together in a loving rock marinade, their sonic tones able to reach across the aisles and allow the mingling genres to hold hands. It may be a touch slower than their predecessors and more rigid in that they don’t deviate much from what a Green Lung song should be but they don’t have to when they’re a quality live band.

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After singing along to the PA piping out their traditional intro of “We Need Some Money” with the crowd doing call-and-response to the recording, it’s time for the reason we’re all here: motherfucking Clutch. Not messing about, they kick off with “The House That Peterbilt” before faithfully recreating the first two songs of Psychic Warfare by allowing “X-Ray Visions” to blend into “Firebirds!” This is Clutch doing what they do best – keeping it fresh every night and if you were in Glasgow the previous night, you know you’re going to get a completely different set with choices spanning their entire career.

That being said, they do have a new album to work with and they draw heavily from it – picking pretty much all of the high points in an album which didn’t have any particularly naff tracks. Keeping it all in the middle of the set whilst intertwining some older material and keeping some classic gems for the back end, it’s a lesson on how to construct a live set, especially when your approach is “Let’s make a different setlist every night”.

Songs like “Slaughter Beach” and “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone)” are welcomed with open arms like “Animal Farm” and “El Jefe Speaks”. However, it’s in the trio of “Mercy Brown”, “Skeletons on Mars” (complete with theremin played live by Neil Fallon) and “Three Golden Horns” which shows the band for what they truly are. Each of these songs are rock, albeit in completely different flavours with bouncy grooves, otherworldly psych tones, and bombast with a dollop of dry humour, respectively.

The tongue-in-cheek continues as they take it to the kitchen with “Hot Bottom Feeder”, Fallon’s sandpaper vocals having a chance to shine as he bellows a recipe for crab cakes. As always, switching up his performance by joining in on guitar for certain songs, his extra work fleshes out the impeccable work of Tim Sult and underlined by his subtle performance, mirrored in bassist Dan Maines’ own laidback stage persona, it allows Fallon to bring the energy and work the crowd. With no elaborate staging – a setup about as big as the bands playing your local pub and no fancy stage wear, Clutch are living proof that if you focus on the music, you don’t need the accoutrements. Whilst their rise may have been slow and steady, the authenticity leaps off the stage and it shows that is how they’ve managed to endure for over thirty years.

There’s no “Electric Worry” in the set tonight to create a curveball and it’s a welcome one – more bands should forego their “obvious” song. There’s a feeling, relentless as the last ninety minutes has been after the encore, that they could have went for longer and it doesn’t feel like they played for that long, nor played a whopping twenty songs. Instead, “The Face” makes for a thrilling finale to the evening, its lyrics almost acting as a mission statement for the band, leaving the night on a an incredible high. Much like they don’t make bad albums, Clutch don’t give bad performances. It’s the quality and understated perfectionism in their live show that’s turned the quintessential cult band into a household name for rock fans.

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Pics by Watchmaker Studios