doors at 6:30pm
tickets: $12 ADV; $14 DOS (buy tickets)


Some men were born to be heroes.

Some men were born to be legends.

Some men were born to be more than just mere mortals.

And then there is Ocean Grove.

John, Greg, Jack, and Ryan.

Four men.

Men who are just men.

All born from humble roots, they rose as one to overcome their modest beginnings. There’s Greg Garbowsky, who spent his whole life combating a crippling peanut allergy and the shame and scorn of having obvious nicknames. He grew from a small pup in the wilderness of suburban New Jersey, and with his bass in hand, thrashed his way past his greatest enemy, a tape deck hooked up to a microphone, to claim his rightful place as arguably the least important member of any band. Though everyone would tell him, “Greg, you’ll never amount to anything,” he has amassed more Twitter followers than anyone knows what to do with, and I guess that counts for something.

Ryan. Sweet baby Ryan. Born blindingly pale and with an afro the size of a large throw pillow, his emergence from the womb led directly to the infamous Minneapolis Drinking Water Crisis of 1982. Though doctors were never able to properly diagnose this defect, and have yet to see it occur again, medical journals all share the same opinion: that the main side-effect of his disease is funk. After dread-locking his hair, Ryan was offered the prestigious position of “mop” at Prince’s Paisley Park studio. Some say being dragged upside down by his legs to clean up after the pop legend made him crazy, but others believe that the powerful juices from that very floor seeped into his brain and are what created a prodigy behind the piano. The smell of Pine-Sol haunts him to this day.

Jack plays drums. He answered an ad on Craigslist.

After years of wasting his parents’ money at top music institutions throughout the world, John Taylor took a sudden and unexpected leave of absence from society and dove into the high-stakes underground world of competitive Parcheesi. Found years after his disappearance floating down a creek, barely alive and bound to the back of a one-eyed crocodile named Claude, he had no choice but to emerge from his shadowy existence and strum his guitar to pay off the extensive debts he’d accrued to the menacing Yakuza Clan and the only slightly less menacing Pennsylvania State University Field Hockey Team. Nobody knows what happened to Claude.

Adrift somewhere on the vast oceanic plain that is God’s unknown will, these four men ebbed and flowed independently of one another until now, when finally, fate has sent them flying skyward together to the crest of a massive tidal wave of musical power.

The world sits stunned, cast by a dark and ominous shadow, looking up at the rising riptide that blocks out the sun. A whole world, uncertain of how these men, men who are just men, could come together and create what is about to fall from the sky and disrupt their quiet lives.

The wave rises and hesitates, and then it rises a bit more.

Hold your breath.

Ocean Grove is about to crash down upon you.

With special guest: ROBERT SCHWARTZMAN


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