Beyond the Burgh
The Closer They Get to the Big Time, the More The Clarks Appreciate Their Roots
By Kevin Ott
Staff Writer
It’s New Year’s Eve, and The Clarks are playing a sold-out show at Pittsburgh’s Club Laga, a hot, sweaty auditorium where the Yeungling sold out in two hours and all that was left by 10 PM was Bud Light.
It’s after midnight ­ after strangers in the crowd found other strangers to kiss, after the adrenaline of early evening has worn down and hours of dancing have taken their toll on the audience ­ when The Clarks break into Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.”
Earlier that night, they’d played their signature tune, “Cigarette,” and the crowd sang every word, shouting the part about the Fayette County Fair. But by now, the crowd has mellowed out. They’re all friends, all Pittsburghers.
And The Clarks know how to play a Pittsburgh crowd.
But these days, they also know how to play Atlanta crowds, Charlotte crowds, Philly crowds. And those venues are just as packed as they are in Pittsburgh.
And so they sit after nearly 14 years together, perched again on the precipice of fame that every successful band eventually reaches ­ a place The Clarks have already visited several times. A year ago, in the wake of a soured major label deal, the band was skeptical of playing shows outside their hometown. Today, as they play sold-out shows up and down the East Coast, they once again face the prospect of selling their souls, losing their western Pennsylvania roots, in the face of notoriety.
Not bloody likely, said lead vocalist Scott Blasey.
On a break from a series of shows in the South with frequent tour companions The Old 97s, Blasey takes it easy in his Pittsburgh home, listening to Jill Scott and Erykah Badu. The Clarks might be going places, he said, but they’re not going anywhere.
They all own homes in and around Pittsburgh. Apart from Blasey, they’re all married. They all have roots in their communities, They all have strong networks of friends and families in Pittsburgh. And the fans, of course. They have all these fans in Pittsburgh.
“We have some really passionate fans, fans that we know by name and by face,” Blasey said. At shows, like the one on New Year’s Eve, those fans line up just below the stage or climb right up next to it, and Blasey welcomes them like old friends.
Up and down the coast, it’s a similar story. Part of the reason The Clarks keep selling out clubs down South is because of the hordes of transplanted Pittsburghers there, said Blasey. But the band’s recent signings with Razor & Tie Entertainment ­ home of indie giants like Dar Williams, Marshall Crenshaw and Love Tractor ­plays its part as well.
After an unpleasant bout with 400-pound gorilla MCA Records (“You just felt lost in the shuffle,” said Blasey), The Clarks signed with Razor & Tie. The band feels more comfortable with a smaller company representing it ­ not to mention the fact that Razor & Tie has marketed a Clarks’ single, “Better Off Without You,” more successfully than MCA ever did.
Smaller is better, said Blasey.
“They know who we are, they care. They’re determined to make a new band,” he said.
They’re a good match for The Clarks, who stick as closely as possible to their roots, and still sing about the woods and bike trails around Blasey’s hometown of Connellsville, and about frustrated youth, as in “Chasin’ Girls” ­ one of The Clarks’ most misunderstood songs, one soaked in sarcasm that non-fans don’t seem to get.
Those days of being a disenfranchised youth, chasing girls and drinking beer, are largely over for 36-year-old Blasey, who still plays the part of the rock star in concert. He’s more subdued in real life.
“All of a sudden, I like Charlie Parker and Miles Davis,” he said. Badu and Scott take up slots in his CD case, alongside Al Green, Macy Gray and other R&B favorites. Those tastes shine through in the band’s live performances, which, like the New Year’s Eve show, often feature covers of tunes by Marvin Gaye and Prince.
Those covers hearken to the early days of The Clarks, back in the late 80s, when they were little more than a cover band playing on weekends. Blasey and the other guys had day jobs then, and he had picked up a guitar only six months before they started playing.
Their second gig was an outdoor festival at the Indiana University of Pennsylvania, poorly planned and poorly run.
So they got in their van and drove home, stopping at frat houses to ask if they could play at a party instead. One frat said yes, and they played in the basement for free beer.
Years later, they are playing big stages alongside radio superstars like Fuel, Train and Green Day. They have a record deal.
They’re selling out shows in Atlanta, Charlotte and Philadelphia.
They’ve seen new babies born and parents die.
They’ve seen marriages and divorces.
And they’re rooted in Pittsburgh, Blasey said. They’re not going anywhere.