Picture this..

....a moonlit night, a clandestine gathering of musical misfits, and a dash of cosmic stardust. That’s how Clementine’s Basement was born—a collision of fate, caffeine-fueled jam sessions, and a shared love for rock ‘n’ roll that could wake the dead.

Our lead guitarist, Joe a/k/a ”Louder Lightning,”  was strumming his guitar under the flickering light of a lava lamp when he heard a distant riff echoing through the night. It was David, the poetic rhythm wizard, practicing his scales in the attic. But it was Ken, the bassist —the wild-eyed dreamer—who brought the magic and a place to play together... a basement!

Ken’s basement, adorned with psychedelic posters and vintage amps, became our sanctuary. And there, amidst the scent of old vinyl records and dog treats, we birthed our sound. We didn’t just play; we channeled the spirits of Lennon, Zevon, and Joplin, and that mysterious guy who sold us expired hot dogs at the flea market in Montclair. 

Enter Clementine—the four-legged muse. Ken’s coonhound had a knack for rhythm. She’d tap her paws to our acoustic tunes, her tail swaying like a metronome. We knew then that destiny had chosen us: Clementine’s Basement—a trio of troubadours armed with guitars, a bass, and a canine groove consultant.

As the seasons changed, so did our lineup. Mike, the nomadic drummer, blew into town like a tumbleweed. His cajon drum became our heartbeat, syncing with the rhythm of passing trains. We jammed till dawn, ignoring the slamming doors from our families upstairs tired of hearing our repetitive riffs!  Yet we soldiered on fueled by pizza crusts and dreams of sold-out stadiums

And then, the miracle—a drum kit materialized in our company garage. We traded our company coffee mugs for drumsticks, becoming the company’s unofficial garage band. Mike (yes, a different new drummer named Mike, this time not a nomad) joined us, his sticks dancing like lightning bugs on the snare. Tim, the keyboard wizard, fell out of red oak tree and right into our lap. He tinkered with cosmic chords, and Misa’s vocals soared like a phoenix on fire. Clementine’s Basement was complete—a fusion of caffeine, coonhound vibes, and cosmic chaos.

Our gigs? Legendary. We rocked the local dive bars, the farmer’s market, and even that awkward family reunion where Uncle Bob tried to salsa dance.

So, buckle up. We’re here to ignite your eardrums, shake your soul, and make you believe in air guitar solos again. Catch us live, and let’s create memories! 🤘🔥🎵