Beards. Beards as far as the eye can see. And beer – all of the beer – merrily swigged and thrown by throngs of happy, (mostly) hairy people. This is the stuff Clutch gigs are made of.
Four modestly attired middle-aged blokes – all of whom look more like IT professionals than rock-stars, and three of whom barely move as they focus intently on their instruments – shouldn’t be this entertaining. But my god they are.
It’s not perfect. Upgraded at the last minute from Shepherd’s Bush Empire, the sound isn’t brilliant – with guitarist Tim Sult’s monster truck riffs getting smothered in a rather muddy mix.
However, this doesn’t stop it being a great show. The propulsive rhythm grooves; the brilliantly intelligent, absurdist lyrics; the mighty hooks and heady layers that just keep coming, right up to closer Earthrocker… Serious fun.
