Let’s take a moment to talk about a guy who didn’t just ride the wave of rock ‘n’ roll history — he helped “create” it.
Larry Tamblyn, the founding member of the raw, rebellious garage-rock band The Standells, has passed away at 82. That name might not ring the same bell as, say, Jagger or McCartney, but Tamblyn’s fingerprints are all over the gritty early blueprint of punk and rock rebellion. We’re talking about a guy whose music is still “blaring through Fenway Park” every time the Red Sox win. That’s legacy. That’s permanence.
And let’s not forget — he was part of that magic 1960s music explosion, a time when every garage had a band and every band had a dream. Tamblyn’s Standells weren’t just in the mix — they were the “attitude.”
Their 1966 hit “Dirty Water” wasn’t just a chart climber; it became “Boston’s anthem”. It still plays after Bruins games. That track’s guitar riff alone could make a grown man grin, even if he’s never set foot in Massachusetts.
But it’s not just about one song. Tamblyn and his bandmates brought a rugged, bluesy, no-frills sound that echoed through decades — influencing bands like the Ramones and the Sex Pistols before punk even had a name.
That’s right — The Standells were punk before punk was cool, long before ripped jeans and safety pins were the uniform. And it all started with Larry, a guy with a vision, a keyboard, and a name inspired by literally “standing around” waiting for gigs.
Born into a family of entertainers — his brother Russ Tamblyn was tearing up Hollywood and Broadway, and his niece Amber Tamblyn would go on to carve her own path — Larry stayed true to music. Not movies, not glitz — just music. Raw and real. He was still performing into his later years, touring, recording, and even playing Tucson bars while crashing at his nephew’s place. That’s the kind of artist he was — humble, present, and still in love with the craft.
He even made it to The Munsters. Yes, “that” Munsters. The Standells played an episode — because of course they did. They were “that” band. Iconic in the margins, loved by the insiders, and still turning heads in 2025.
There’s no word yet on the cause of death, but the tributes say it all — neighbors, family, fans, all pouring out stories and memories. Tamblyn was more than just a rock legend; he was a living piece of American music history.
And now, as the amps go quiet, we remember him the way he lived: a little rough around the edges, unapologetically cool, and forever standing tall.
