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Boston Globe

Amid squeeze on musical ecosystem, an old Cambridge venue gets new life

It reopened earlier this year, after a year-and-a-half closure, according to the venue's owners. In doing so, it became something of an anomaly in Greater Boston. Band member Clifford Carraha tested a microphone on the small stage. Ben Pennington/for The Boston Globe As beloved, housing and cost of living crises. Gregg Perry, the trio's 42-year-old guitarist from Arlington, plays in a couple bands, but the gigs don't come as often as they once did. A Berklee College of Music dropout, Perry works as a delivery driver part time nowadays, he said. Advertisement 'I don't know, man, the Boston music scene is really tough,' he said. 'Just trying to get a gig, dude is like, [expletive]. . .' His voice trailed off. Advertisement JP Faundez Power Trio bandmates Gregg Perry, J.P. Faundez, and Clifford Carraha (left to right) played together in Toad. Ben Pennington/for The Boston Globe Tommy McCarthy, and his wife, Louise Costello, are behind Toad's rebirth. It is the fifth bar they've opened. The first, and perhaps most well known, is Both musicians by trade, McCarthy and Costello didn't know much about running a bar at the time. 'We just thought if you could create the music, the rest will follow,' said McCarthy recently. That mantra has guided the reopening of Toad. It's connected by a doorway to a larger pub, formerly known as Christopher's, now called McCarthy's. While Toad puts on live music — blues, acoustic singer-songwriters, rock — later at night, McCarthy's has a traditional Irish session every day of the week that starts at 7 p.m. The Burren has a similar setup of different performance spaces. Jonathan Bricker, a professor who teaches courses on live music, touring, and concerts at Berklee, said the COVID-19 pandemic wiped out many small, independently run venues that are a creative lifeblood for the local musical community. 'Rooms like that are essential for developing, for trying out, and growing as an artist, as a band, wherever you find yourself on the musical spectrum,' said Bricker, who manages several local acts. Data on small, independent music venues, and their closures since the start of the pandemic, are hard to come by. The Advertisement Toad's reopening is welcome news among local musicians. Trama acknowledged that at a time when it is becoming 'tougher and tougher' for artists to exist in Greater Boston, any survival of another place to gig should be applauded. 'All of these smaller places, they are a lifeline to the culture of art in the whole Boston area,' he said recently. 'More of them, the better.' People mingled before the music started at Toad. Ben Pennington/for The Boston Globe 'It's a victory, definitely,' she said of Toad's reopening this past April. 'Having it back is a major win. Places like Toad, you have every skill level of musician playing that room.' Jim Haggerty, a full-time musician who has played bass for about 50 years, lamented the dwindling number of small venues. He described Toad, a place he has played more than a hundred times, as somewhere 'where professional musicians can play, and, if you have a good enough following, you can make a living.' Haggerty moved to Boston from upstate New York in the 1980s, when it was possible to work odd jobs, pay cheap rent with 'a bunch of buddies,' and pursue one's artistic dreams. It's no longer that town, he said. Haggerty lives in Roslindale and was able to buy a house 'before things got crazy.' Implied is that musicians nowadays have a much steeper fiscal climb to put down roots locally. Advertisement 'I got extremely lucky,' he said. Back in Toad before his gig, Carraha, the bassist and singer, said for him, the barometers of a good set are straightforward: Are the players in sync, feeling the groove? Is the crowd responding positively? Carraha, a 42-year-old Watertown resident, has been playing gigs around town for about 25 years. In his day job, he co-owns a catering company. 'Every venue is essential because as artists we need that,' he said. His bandmate, Perry, will be happy with his take from the night's performance. Perry will make $120, he said. In years past, he played gigs at Toad where the entire band got $150, plus whatever was in the tip bucket, and some comped food and drinks. 'It's medicine for the soul,' he said of music. 'I need this.' Minutes later, his band started to play. Danny McDonald can be reached at