Where is lupos in providence ri
July 15, July 16, July 22, July 23, Rubber Rodeo. The Pleasure Kings. July 24, July 25, Westminster Street. Set List. July 26, Shawn Colvin. July 30, August 6, Johnny Winter. August 7, Peter Wolf. They Might Be Giants. Pere Ubu. October 6, October 13, Ziggy Marley.
Get Set V. October 14, October 15, October 19, October 20, Mighty Mighty Bosstones. November 10, November 11, November 13, Robert Cray Band. Kim Wilson. November 18, January 26, January 29, February 5, Leslie West. February 16, Brides of Jesus. February 19, Blind Melons.
Fudge Tunnel. March 23, April 6, April 24, May 13, Debbie Harry. May 26, June 23, Jimmie Vaughan. August 12, Small Factory. Blueshift Signal. September 9, Dinosaur Jr. Combustible Edison. October 7, October 9, Dave Matthews Band.
Dream Theater. October 25, November 8, Blues Traveler. December 3, Sub Slave. January 6, January 30, January 31, February 10, Chris Stamely. February 12, Jefferson Starship. March 3, Buddy Guy. March 10, Velvet Crush. Veruca Salt. April 15, Taj Mahal. Duke Robillard. April 28, Mike Watt. Foo Fighters. May 19, Juliana Hatfield. Jeff Buckley. May 21, Matthew Sweet. May 27, August 3, August 4, Letters To Cleo.
Eve's Plum. October 18, Henry Rollins Spoken Word. December 4, January 27, Aimee Mann. Iron Maiden. Mike Gent. Lately he's been consumed by a battle with his landlord, who happens to be one of the city's dominant developers and wants to turn the building that houses Lupo's Heartbreak Hotel into upscale lofts. Lupo feels increasingly threatened by those who see the club as a relic of an old Providence whose time has passed. And he's picked up rumors that city officials are planning to make his life miserable by rigidly enforcing sound ordinances and fire codes.
Has the time come, Lupo wonders, to abandon downtown Providence and start over in a rundown neighborhood on the southern edge of the city? Or maybe it's time to retire. Get married and start a family. Maybe it's time to grow up. Inside Lupo's, as the club is best known, the s hair band Tesla is heating up the crowd with a cover of Black Sabbath's "War Pigs.
Two bearded, overweight men nearly trade blows over a square of floor behind the sound booth - a spot from which the stage is barely visible.
Threats fly. Beer spills. Most of the crowd, however, is focused on the band and is singing along to nearly every lyric. People stomp, scream, and pump their fists in the air - all for a band whose biggest hit was another cover, the s antiestablishment anthem "Signs. Invisible in this sea of stone-washed denim, flannel, and leather, Lupo slouches against a pillar near the back of the club holding a cup of Bud Light.
He likes what he sees. It works. I mean, look at the people, they're just so happy. Lupo is also pleased because the radio station paid for the band and, he explains, a working-class crowd outdrinks yuppies and college kids any night.
Nearly bald, with a waning half-moon of gray hair, Lupo has a puffy face with small, bright blue eyes, a wide, freckled forehead, and a stubbed-end nose. Although he stands six-foot-one, he seems shorter, and he looks slimmer than his pounds. He favors sweatshirts and jeans over the slick suits and black leather of the stereotypical club owner.
Until five years ago, Lupo dressed almost exclusively in corduroys - he says it's impossible to find them anymore. He switched to jeans only after his final four pairs of cords, which he'd found at Goodwill, grew so threadbare you could see through them.
Tonight he looks almost formal in a faded green polo shirt, black jeans, and white New Balance sneakers. Lupo's insouciance toward flash also extends to his choice of car and home: he drives a Mazda with a twenty-year-old Scrabble board in the backseat, its box held together with duct tape and lives in a slightly shabby single-family home overlooking Roger Williams Park.
Restless, Lupo climbs a set of stairs to an L-shaped balcony and scans the length of the club, a long rectangular space that was once the Peerless department store; outside, portraits of rock 'n' roll legends have replaced mannequins in the display windows.
Gazing down on the crowded club floor through a haze of cigarette smoke, Lupo sounds almost wistful for "the early days. But he quickly realized that live music attracted a steady crowd, and within two months local bands were playing the bar six nights a week.
Soon regular customers began offering Lupo access to bigger bands - at first Boston blues acts and later such national blues figures as harp player Big Walter Horton. Blues became a mainstay, leading to an association with blues-and-roots label Alligator Records. Jack Reich, who was then the manager of the popular Rhode Island band Rizzz, became Lupo's full-time booking agent, bringing in younger, more current acts such as the Ramones, the Talking Heads, the Police, the Pretenders, the Go-Gos, and Squeeze.
The bar solidified its reputation in , after a customer helped Lupo book renowned bluesman Bo Diddley. Lupo couldn't believe it. Of Monsters and Men. Impressive, yes? It was a melting pot. It was a neighborhood bar, but it drew Brown and RISD students — it was every range of society and it was so much fun. It just developed into this great, great place. The first national act was blues harpist Big Walter Horton.
In , Bo Diddley backed by the Young Adults played a weeklong residency. It was official: Providence had its first real club — a gritty, no-frills urban roadhouse which drew devoted music fans from all over the state.
The Heartbreak Hotel went out in grand style with five nights of music featuring many of the aforementioned locals some of whom are playing the 40th anniversary shows in October. Complex World had all the makings of a cult classic: the plot involves terrorists, a biker gang, a troubled folksinger and other misfits who converge on the club to wreak comedic havoc.
It was filmed in and finally got a very limited release in though it played at the Cable Car for nearly four months , although it proved to be a financial albatross. While shopping Complex World , Lupo looked all over the city before he found an ideal spot for his new club — a former department store at Westminster, a couple of blocks up from his original site. The second Heartbreak Hotel was arguably the best large music room the state has ever had, with great sight lines and sound, and more than a bit of the spirit that was a hallmark of its predecessor.
And so there was really no option other than [the Strand]. But it made sense to go from a concert club that felt like a bar to a concert club that really was a concert club. I think people still have good times there.
The experience will be much better there. We wrapped up with a few Big Picture questions: What were the biggest challenges in keeping the clubs afloat for 40 years. What does the future hold? We signed a lease [at 79 Washington Street] with options till a few months ago. And we have about 15 years of options [on the Met] — if we can stay in business, and choose to. What are his favorite musical memories?
That was just unbelievable.
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