Clark Clifford — bassist, cellist, vocalist, Songwriter, Arranger

A bold start

Dig this: Clark Clifford, Berklee ’79 grad, has been shaping sound since 1961, when he started grooving at age 8 with the Warren Boys Choir. That early start set the tone for a lifelong run through soul, psychedelia, jazz, punk, blues, and beyond.

Decades in sound

The decades came in waves. The ’60s brought soul and psychedelia, the ’70s turned him toward jazz, the ’80s kicked up punk energy, the ’90s dug into the blues, and the 2000s brought a kind of sonic resurrection — a deeper, broader, more fearless sound.

In 1979, Clark Clifford came drifting back to Pittsburgh after Berklee, carrying the kind of hopes a lot of musicians bring home with them—big enough to matter, fragile enough to break. Around him was the old story of show business, passed down through blood and memory, because his great uncle, Charlie Shaffer, had lived it from the inside. Charlie had been one of those larger-than-life names from the vaudeville days, running alongside Joe Bonomo back when the circuit was still alive with hunger and smoke, then turning up in The Rough Riders in 1929 and later doing stunt work for Gene Autry at Republic Pictures. And before John Wayne was really John Wayne over there, Charlie was riding him to work every day in his Cord, which sounds like something out of a ballad or a busted studio gossip column.

Charlie knew the machinery. He knew the value of a name, an introduction, a favor that came from the old country of entertainment where everybody owed somebody something. So he put Clark onto Sid Marke, the former vaudeville agent who had once helped make songwriter Sandy Mason, the woman behind “Our Love,” the Crystal Gayle record that went all the way to number one. Alan Reynolds was part of the deal too, which meant the whole thing had the faint smell of possibility and paperwork, that dangerous combination that can keep a musician going just long enough to get hurt.

Clark did what musicians always do when they think they can still make the thing work on their own terms. He put together a band with a guitarist who’d been through New York with Neil Young and Jeremy Steig back in the ’60s, and he had plans to bring in Brazilian players he’d met at Berklee once the ball started rolling. That’s the good stuff, really—the way musicians imagine the sound before the business gets its hands on it. What he wanted was blues and jazz, the kind of music that breathes and bends and refuses to stay in one box. What the local booking people wanted was Top 40, the neat package, the easy sell, the thing you could explain in one sentence over a cigarette and a handshake.

And that’s where it all started to come apart, because music is one thing and the marketplace is another, and they do not always love each other. Personalities rubbed raw, the arguments got real, the courts got involved, and the courts were lost. In the end Clark was left standing there with the music, which is both the blessing and the punishment. He had to go back to his own resources, which is where a lot of musicians end up anyway—alone with the truth, the sound, and whatever stubbornness kept them going in the first place.

2024: a sonic cocktail

By 2024, Clifford was blending jazz, neoclassical textures, and psychobilly into a mind-blowing sonic cocktail with a twist. The result is music that feels exploratory but grounded, vintage yet forward-looking, and personal without losing its edge.

Pull quote:
“Clark Clifford, ’79 Berklee grad, started grooving in ’61 at 8 with the Warren Boys Choir.”

Latest release

Latest release: Potpourri Of Sounds Volume 1 — a project that brings together cello, bass, vocals, drums, and orchestral textures into a vivid, shape-shifting listen.

Want to hear more?

If you’re curious about Clark’s sound, check out the latest release and see how jazz, neoclassical, and psychobilly blend into one surprising sonic story. See this YouTube channel for more.