The Dino Club was directly modeled after such intimate and sacred societies as The Ale and Quail Club, The Woman Haters Club, The Rat Pack and Menudo, containing essential and lively elements from each. It's also an informal beatnik brag fest made up of five blood brothers who've played (hard) together, fought (within and without) together, divorced together, dissected the many, many intricacies of pop culture, and most of all, gotten real real gone together. The wide variety of drinking songs (songs exultant, besotted, contemplative, sorrowful and in yer face) contained on the new CD "Hey! Drink Up" are the result of multiple decades of hardscrabble research, all of it verified. Hour after hour has been logged in shaking on couches, shivering in alleys, standing astride barstools, long, hard and often happy years spent in the trenches of true blue chemical warfare. Face it -- the respective survivors and ever-vigilant drinking men that comprise The Dino Club are doomed to a life of perpetual dry throats and aching minds. Time to write it, play it and hey, drink up!
mark cutler Mark first picked up a guitar at age five, but the strings hurt his fingers. So he tried drums, but the cymbals hurt his ears.
By third grade he was playing bugle. He learned how to play "Mame," but the song hurt his ears. Nothing against the song, you know. Cuz as a wise man once said, "It's all about the song."
Now Mark has teamed up with his extended family and musical pals to form a new enclave known as The Dino Club.
Mark will make appearances at places where anyone wants him and, sometimes, where people don't want him.
bob giusti Ever since he can remember, Bob was tapping time on anything he could find. Pots, pans, school desks…it didn’t matter. When he was six, he played “Wipeout” on the back of a schoolmate, bringing the youngster to tears, and Bob to the principal’s office. He knew then he was hooked.
Bob’s earliest influences came from his father blasting his favorite jazz and swing albums on the family Hi-Fi. Chick Webb and Buddy Rich were his first heroes, but like most kids of his generation, it was Ringo, Moon and Zeppelin’s Bonham that really floated his boat.
The only thing he doesn’t like about the drums is setting them up and moving them. Most people usually comment on how large his kick drum is, but Bob only uses one that big to draw attention away from his nose…and as we all know, size isn’t everything.
When he’s not drumming, Bob partakes of his favorite hobby: Drinking in the afternoon.
mike tanaka When Mike was in college, he took some friends to see Buddy Guy and Junior Wells at the Checkerboard Lounge. During a break, one of the friends told Buddy and Junior that Mike was a guitar player and wanted to sit in.
When they called him up, Junior asked, "What's your name?" But he couldn't get it right. Mike Tanaka sounded like "MIGA BAGGA" or "GYGA TOGGA." Finally, Buddy leaned into the mike and said, "Ladies and gentlemen...please welcome Mister Slant-eyed Slim."
Some years later, Mike gave up the guitar and took up bass.
emerson torrey Emerson Torrey, a.k.a. E Buzz, or the Wiz, cuz folks, if it's broke he can fix it. Emerson's history with MC goes back to early days of Punk/Pub Rock. In fact, Emerson and Mark started the Providence band the Schemers. In the Providence scene they packed legendary clubs such as Lupo's and the Living Room with their Tom Verlaine, Richard Lloyd meets Keith Richards guitar interplay. When Mark decided to break up the Schemers, Em went on to play in another local band, Tom Keegan and the Language. But it wasn't long before Mark needed his old friend back in the fold. They toured the country with the band The Raindogs, critically-acclaimed and financially something else. You can now see can Emmo's smiling face on stage next to Mark, Mike Tanaka and Bob Giusti cranking out Everly Brothers-type harmonies and rock steady rhythm. Emmo the Wiz, the man with the buzzing E string.
contact emerson torrey
scott duhamel Talk-talk. Bark-bark. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Scott's love for language and the power of words began when his regular-sized mouth turned into a big one some time during grade school. He's been yappin' ever since, pausing every once in a while to put a bit of it on paper. It's always been about the words -- stolen, borrowed, recycled, rephrased, regurgitated and reimagined from the likes of Marx (Groucho) and Lennon (John), between Chandler and McGuane, from Billy Wilder through Sam Shepard to Marty Scorcese, bounced from Pop (Iggy) to Reed (Lou), and all filtered through the collective rantings of Lester Bangs, Nick Tosches, and the one and only R. Meltzer. What prompts Scott (who is undoubtedly rambling on at this moment) to really foam at the mouth, outside of baseball, music, movie-movies, the sounds of the city and himself, is The Dino Club. Scott is usually dreaming of one thing: Having a shot at his spot.
"Today's Dino Club recalls Schemers of yesteryear"
The Providence Journal,