Tuesday, March 31

The past, present and future of Boston’s music scene from the eyes of a retired punk


Buried under a doggy daycare in Allston sits Looney Tunes, a record store with vinyls stacked up to the ceiling. To look at them all, you are forced to squeeze between tall stacks and step over the short ones just starting to grow. Once you’ve made it to the back, you’ll find Pat McGrath, who’s owned the business for 44 years. 

To the loyal followers of Looney Tunes, McGrath is the old man known for his sarcasm and love for (literally) underground music. But in the late 1980s, McGrath and his friend Billy Ruane were responsible for getting huge acts to play unlikely venues, like a Lebanese restaurant, a defunct bowling alley, and other improbable places in greater Boston. They recruited acts like Nirvana, Elliot Smith and Sonic Youth and helped Boston-based bands like The Pixies and The Lemonheads find mainstream success. These shows grew so popular that the venues, who’ve survived this long, continue to put them on.

In their later years, McGrath was tasked with caring for Ruane until his passing in 2010. Now, McGrath spends his days listening to the “magic when a piece of plastic and a rock meet,” recounting stories of his drug-fueled youth and supporting the next generation of Boston music.

The Cambridge music venue they pioneered, The Middle East, has expanded significantly, now boasting five locations, all in Central Square. But the empire has wavered in recent years. McGrath takes a look back at how he and Ruane started the scene and what he believes is to come. 

Pat McGrath (left) holds up a record at Looney Tunes. (Photo: Mark Puskey)

The following has been edited for clarity.

Mark Puskey: In Cambridge, these clubs went from just being clubs to music venues. It seems like you had something to do with that? 

Pat McGrath: Yes.
Well, the real person that had something to do with it is my friend, Billy. For his 30th birthday party–that would have been 1987– because of his bipolar condition, he overdid everything. He had too many bands that wanted to play at [the now defunct Central Square venue] T.T. the Bear’s, so he went to the Middle East. They saw how many people showed up and said, “Hmm, this is very interesting. Let’s let this man maybe book some more of these crazy rock bands in here.” And he did. And it did well. This music thing was very popular.

MP: Did you help book these shows, or were you just there to watch?

PM: I helped book, but I also played some of the shows. 

MP: What do you play? 

PM: Guitar. See, Billy was a billionaire. But he had considerable mental illness. When his father passed, his trustees called me and said, “you got to look after Billy.” Because he was my friend forever. I’d been a musician and played in a million of his shows. He took all of the money that his trust paid him and threw it at musicians because he loved the music. He wasn’t a musician. And so he would throw himself into booking bands. When we found the Middle East, it was like, this is it. That’s how that venue got started. And when T.T. The Bear’s went out of business in 2015, I played the very last set with a band called Scorfy the Cat.

MP: There’s a different club now, though, right? 

PM: Sonia’s. They’re also part of the Middle East. But they’re not doing especially well. They bought an armory in Somerville, a really good place for music lessons and a performance space. It was beautiful. And the city took it away. They started with, “you can’t have a band play here because of noise complaints from the neighbors,” which is bulls—. Then they took it over for eminent domain. So they lost $1 million on it. They’re still smarting from that. They’re doing the best they can. The Middle East has had their problems. 

MP: Are they doing any better? 


PM: I hope so. I mean, it’s a venue for musicians. I let musicians play out in the courtyard [of the record store] for free, just to have a place, but it’s too cold right now. In the warmer months, people set up shows out there and run a cord in here.
And right now, the Middle East is letting me set up a benefit for a musician who’s got at least a couple kinds of cancer. Lots of bands are reforming; Mission of Burma is going to play.

MP: When’s the show? 

PM: March 12th. You know, the Middle East is like part of the community. They’ve held on when the Rat’s gone. Other indies, they come and go.
Like on this street, there was a club called Johnny D’s, gone. Around the corner, there’s one called Molly’s, gone. The Brighton Musical Hall is still there. It was called Harper’s Ferry back in the day.
But there are half a dozen clubs in this neighborhood that aren’t there anymore. O’Brien still has bands. But Bunratty’s down the way, that’s gone.

MP: Great Scott’s coming back.

PM: Yeah, we’ll see. I’ve been hearing this now for seven years. I heard they were gonna take over the pizza restaurant over there, but they never did. The owner said they just got cold feet.

MP: How have these venues changed from the late 80s, to what they are now? 

PM:
There’s less of them. But there are more people, so as a result, they’re doing house shows now and things of this nature. Which is good. You know, that’s generally how any kind of trend or movement gets started by some do-it-yourself, DIY. You know, something a little bit less structured, less corporate, more punk rock in a way. 

MP: How often do you go to these shows? 

PM:
I wouldn’t know how to quantify that. Now and then. But
I’m toiling in the vinyl vineyards here. That’s what’s going on.

MP: What do you expect for the future of the Boston music scene? 


PM: I expect I’ll see what happens. I’ve never really had the crystal ball… Things are gonna go the way they go. I hope people keep playing.
I hope people get good. I hope people avoid using AI as a crutch, there’s a whole generation of morons being cultivated. AI is a really frightening thing to me, how it’s affecting art. I can go on it and say, “hey I just made up a new Beatles song.”

MP: Well, The Beatles put out a song a couple of years ago, and half of John’s stuff was AI. 


PM: It wasn’t. All they did was clean up a scratchy-sounding tape. It didn’t change the performance at all. That is a judicious use of it. Initially, that song was found on an old cassette in his apartment, and Yoko gave it to them, and then built a song around it, but it always sounded like he’s singing into an old telephone. So they fixed it. Which is fine.
I think it was, in a way, a good use. But having it write your stories, write your papers, do your homework.
It’s frightening. Did they let that genie out of the bottle in a way that can’t get it back in? 
I don’t know. 

MP: Do you think you see that a lot in new music? 

PM: I don’t listen to a lot of new music because it sucks.





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