It’s that time of year again, where a jolly, bearded man travels around to bring joy and merriment wherever he goes. We’re, of course, talking about Neil Fallon, accompanied by his helper elves in Clutch for what has to be the final major tour of the year. It’s quite a significant one, too, once meant as an anniversary run of their 1995 self-titled album that’s morphed into an all-encompassing celebration of the band. That means a different setlist every night that, so far, has done a good job at representing their catalogue as a whole. Clutch have always been a good band—the sort of barrel-chested hard rock that’s more than off-kilter enough to avoid any and all ‘throwback’ stigmatisations—and coming up to their 35th year, they’re still showing that off to a pretty wild extent.
The openers are fittingly in tune with that, too. Norway’s Bokassa are first up, sporting all the sensibilities that make them a no-brainer to have on a Clutch-led bill. In a combination of stoner-rock, swerves into punk pace and a sense of humour underscoring it all, they really do tessellate well. In frontman Jørn Kaarstad, they’ve got a genuine wealth of charisma (“As you can see, I dressed for the occasion,” he proclaims, in his Liverpool football shirt. “I like to give myself an uphill battle.”) who also knows full well how to lead this muscular assault. With a rock-on-rock voice and a guitar tone that sounds like a cliff face carved into shape, Bokassa are fully tapped into what they do. So much so, in fact, that you do notice a bit of a disparity at play. It’s definitely cool to hear punk-skewing material built from these igneous building blocks, but the deeper they lean into stoner scorching, the better they get. Wrath Is Love especially is a total knockout, the pinnacle of Bokassa’s efforts that, as it stands, never take that much of a dip.
There’s a similar consistency to 1000mods, where this tour of European stoner-rock takes a jump down to Greece. That consistency arguably runs even deeper, too; other than the occasional brush against Queens Of The Stone Age, this is far purer in style. It’s also a bit less gripping for it, though not to an excessive degree. The tone is still like a brick wall transposed to sound, and guitarist Giorgios is quick to nab the MVP slot for how white-hot his solos can be. With good energy and a transfixed concentration that hardens them even further, 1000mods drill deep into meat-and-potatoes stoner-rock for something that works almost entirely. With the ductile Fortunate Son riff that is Vidage to end on, their appeal gets encrusted with its shiniest gem yet.
Though speaking of gemstones of a particularly righteous variety, Neil Fallon launching straight into ‘deranged minister’ mode seals it for Clutch immediately. For what’s allowed within this style, he’s as much a showman as you’re liable to get, shotgunning his big hand gestures and tromping across the stage with intense, bug-eyed purpose. It’s a sight to behold, to where you’re almost anticipating the flames of this bluesy devil-music rising up to lick the stage. No such luck, unfortunately, though it’s worthy of only the slightest black mark. Otherwise, it’s a crushing display from Clutch, implicit of a meticulously curated and hewn set rolled out time and time again, not a selection of cuts from across their discography that could’ve been swapped out for literally anything else.
If nothing else, that speaks to how ironclad Clutch’s catalogue is when there are still notable absences here. Some of the big big ones are present like Burning Beard and Electric Worry (the latter appearing to be the only set-in-stone inclusion for each date), but there’s no A Quick Death In Texas or 50,000 Unstoppable Watts, or even In Walks Barbarella for a more recent fave. Not that you feel any sort of pinch at all; what’s here is still uniformly terrific. Perhaps ‘thick and fast’ is a misrepresentation of how Clutch’s grooves pour into view, but the idea remains solid. After all, it’s not like there’s any significant downtime when the standard is set by Worm Drink’s hefty funk, or the fattened stoner-rock peel of Spacegrass. Of course, the more extroverted, eccentric hard rock of Clutch is well-represented, too, and just as well-executed. It’s always wonderful to hear the hip-swinging boogie-rock of The Mob Goes Wild rip out unimpeded, and the one-two of X-Ray Visions and Firebird rattles by with unstoppable momentum.
If you’re really stretching for a fault, the goodness of it all doesn’t quite cross the threshold into specialness. Maybe if you’re doing more than one date and seeing different setlists play out (which is the intended experience, as stated by the band themselves), that’ll come through more readily. As a one-timer, though, it’s kind of just Clutch being Clutch. Though, bear in mind, that’s not a bad thing in the slightest. Regardless of song selection, you’ll be getting hollering hard rock played with capacity at its most absolute (special shoutout to Dan Maines’ bass-work there), from a band who genuinely don’t seem to know how to do anything but. The crowd love it; Clutch themselves are clearly loving it; what more could you realistically want? ‘Tis the season, after all.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Photos by Will Robinson (Instagram)
