Frank Meyer
Smedley’s Bar & Grill, Cleveland, OH
By Rob McCune
Something special, magical even, took place on a Monday night in a biker bar in Cleveland, Ohio, that was witnessed by a crowd of about 50, and though quite memorable, likely will be remembered by at least a few fewer than that.
The site of this small miracle was Smedley’s Bar & Grill, a working-class shingle hanged by a former Marine in the early aughts that closed in 2024 and, by most accounts online, “permanently” a ghost.
The pub’s reopening in May of this year flew so under the radar that AI scoured the web in response to a search for “Frank Meyer concert, Smedley’s Bar, Cleveland” on the day of the show and spat back the unfortunate result that while there was a concert scheduled there that evening, it must be canceled because the venue is “permanently closed.” Listed phone numbers for the place remain out of service.
So it’s a bit of a miracle in itself that anyone aside from the bar and band crews showed up for a show that did in fact happen. Luckily, Smedley’s is still in the same spot in Cleveland’s West Park, where some dedicated fans (and I) found it, along with a few regulars already a few pints deep by early nightfall.
Arriving for what I guessed would be a 7 o’clock show, I was a couple of pints deep myself by the time music was played at 9, and fairly well-acquainted with a couple of very inebriated elderly men (the few probably less than fully aware) who had shouted nonsense into my ear for well over an hour. That might have contributed to the magic a bit, but certainly was not singularly the spark.
First up, special to just this show on the tour, The Robert Conn Band, a Northeast Ohio original, brought a 1970s Cleveland punk sound, with singer Adam Christoper pulling Jim Carrey-quality faces and a Devo-like energy as he continuously broke the wall between band and crowd.
Next, The Strains, punk rock veterans from Detroit (via Germany and Dayton, Ohio), brought the Motor City rev and edge. Lead singer Paul Grace Smith, in a slouch hat, bantered with the crowd between blistering tracks, backed by Gretta Smack (with an infectiously boisterous spirit and ear-to-ear grin) and Jamy Holiday on guitar and backing vocals. The Strains’ bassist Kellen Muller and drummer Al King also pulled double duty, supporting headliner Frank Meyer and his multi-instrumentalist sidekick Ozzy Carmona.
More than anyone else, Meyer brought the magic. In a set that featured songs off his debut album, “Living Between the Lines,” and rocked right on til midnight, the frontman and founder of LA punk rock ‘n roll band The Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs, delivered a concert-hall-sized performance that engaged every soul in Smedley’s. He ripped epic guitar riffs, belted earworm-styled lyrics about love and lawlessness, took a drag off a proffered smoke and opened his heart on jams blending blues, soul, punk and classic rock.
Starting with a Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs song, “Let Me Out” rattled the walls, while singles off the solo record “Blue Radio” and “Baby Dynamite” blew up the place. Meyer also treated the crowd to some spaghetti, with “Knock My Teeth Out,” a track from his collaboration with The Supersuckers’ Eddie Spaghetti. But the impromptu encore jam, which brought back members of The Strains and The Robert Conn Band, on a cover of Johnny Thunders’ “Blame It On Mom,” was where the magic really was undeniable—propelled by both a penetrable beat and a camaraderie that felt rhythmically genuine.
On this relatively brief tour, a rollick through the Midwest and Northeast, magic could be found in unlikely, even hidden, places, where anyone lucky enough to witness might be forever after chasing that rabbit, or cheetah.
Rob McCune is Every_Thing_After_Photo on Instagram, where he shares his concert photography and reviews, as well as clips from his “Every.Thing.After” podcast, with interviews with musicians and bands.
