Gnarly Davidson prepares for its senior recital — and to hang it up for a while

The Lawrence power trio Gnarly Davidson came together in typically Lawrencian fashion: at the Replay Lounge, at Love Garden Sounds, at the Eighth Street Taproom. 

That’s how the dudes in the band — drummer Franklin Fantini, guitarist-vocalist Mitch Jones, bassist-vocalist, Sam Gunnerson — tell it to me as we lounge in the shade behind SeedCo Studios, in the college town’s warehouse arts district. Gunnerson sips a ginger ale; the rest of us are enjoying PBRs. The reason for discussing the beginning of the band is that the end of the band — for now, at least — is drawing near: Gnarly Davidson will play a farewell show of sorts at the Bottleneck this Friday, June 1.

“I was working day bar at the Replay,” Gunnerson recalls, “and Mitch came in. He said, ‘What do you think of this for a band name: Gnarly Davidson.’ I was like, ‘That is so good. Let me know if you ever do anything with that. I would love to be a part of it.’” 

One of Jones’s gigs at the time was putting up fliers for Replay shows. He picked up the day’s fliers and walked up Massachusetts Street to Love Garden, where Fantini was working. Jones asked Fantini to be in his theoretical band. Fantini agreed. 

What they eventually came up with is a style that falls somewhere in the nebulous realm of rock ‘n’ roll between stoner metal, sludgy hardcore, and chooglin’ riff rock. It’s a loud, energetic, wall of sound good for both moshing and standing at the back of the room slamming beers and nodding your head. Gnarly Davidson’s first show was in the basement of the Eighth Street Taproom. It was entitled “Weird Band Night.” One of the band’s original ideas was to buy beer for the audience at its shows. 

“We spent $25 buying beer for the crowd that night,” Fantini says. 

Alas, that particular plan wasn’t economically feasible in the long term. But Gnarly Davidson remained a band for the people. Other show concepts included a steel cage match where the band went song for song with fellow Lawrence heavy rockers Young Bull, and a Halloween set where the band played The Black Album — by Spinal Tap, not Metallica. Most shows, the band sets up at floor level, surrounded by the crowd. 

“I love that you’re at eye level with these people,” Gunnerson says. “There’s something about it that’s just super-awesome and intimate.”

Fantini: “The energy transfers well when there’s less of stage. I saw Thee Oh Sees a lot, and I always liked that no matter how big they got, they always insisted on playing the floor of a venue.”

Gnarly Davidson played constantly that first year. If a heavy act or rock ‘n’ roll band rolled through Lawrence, the trio was likely the opener. As Fantini explains, if a band goes over well at the Replay, there’s something of a honeymoon period during the first year of its existence.

“You can play as often as you want, and nobody really gets tired of you yet,” he says. “A friend of ours from out of town would hit us up, so we’d play a Tuesday night show and a Friday night show in the same week.”

For all of its live shows, though, the recorded output of Gnarly Davidson consists of one cassette tape and a 7-inch single. Merch was more its game: the band printed up punch cards, and those who attended 12 shows got a free t-shirt. Plus, as Fantini explains, though the band is made up of three pretty nice dudes, they play a loud, aggressive form of music, and the punch cards encourage people to come up and talk to them after the show. It’s a case, he says, of the band’s merch doing a good job of selling them, rather than the other way around. Its T-shirt ideas were also inspired, such as the one with the band’s logo on the front and “If you can read this, the Mitch fell off” on the back.

“It sells our personalities, because we’re always telling jokes or doing puns,” Fantini says. “For the most part, a lot of people at our shows are our friends, or have become so because of it.”

With all this Lawrence goodwill, why call it quits — or, at the very least, put the brakes on? Mainly, Fantini moved to Cleveland at the beginning of May to be with his girlfriend and to change things up after twenty years living in the same town. It’s not the end, though. The three are clear on the fact that this is an indefinite hiatus, not a breakup.

“We are recording at the end of this tour, so maybe there will one day be a full-length Gnarly thing,” Jones says. Fantini agrees, saying that they don’t want to go on hiatus without there being documentation of what they’ve accomplished musically.

“I don’t know if it’s going to be an everyday functioning band like it is now or not,” he says. “But it’s also fun enough that I don’t see a reason for there not to be shows again someday.”

Expect Gnarly Davidson to pull out all the stops on Friday, up to and including a set featuring every single song the band has ever written. There will definitely be a convocation from a local music luminary. There may also be a valedictory speech. As the Facebook event states: “This is a senior recital, you damn heathens.”

“It’ll be four years and one month since our first show,” Fantini says. “Enough time to get a degree.”

“We’re finally graduating,” Gunnerson agrees. “We’re pretty pumped about it. It was a tough four years, but, man — it feels good.”

Gnarly Davidson plays the Bottleneck on Friday, June 1, with Psychic Heat. Details on that show here.