Larry Tamblyn, the man who gave us the ultimate Boston anthem, has left the stage. The founding frontman of The Standells passed away at 82, leaving behind a legacy that’s as gritty and enduring as the dirty water he sang about. If you’re from Boston—or just love a good underdog story—you know exactly what I mean. “Dirty Water,” that snarling garage-rock classic from 1966, is more than just a song; it’s a rallying cry, a piece of the city’s soul, and a reminder that sometimes the best music comes from the scrappiest corners of the scene.
Born in 1943, Tamblyn was a musical prodigy, cutting singles in the 1950s while most kids his age were still figuring out how to tune a radio. But it was in 1962 that he really hit his stride, forming The Standells with a crew of LA misfits who looked like they’d just wandered off the set of a surf movie and decided to start a band instead. Their sound? Pure, unfiltered garage rock—the kind that makes you want to crank up the volume and annoy your neighbors. They weren’t pretty boys or studio slick; they were raw, rebellious, and exactly what the ‘60s needed.
Then came “Dirty Water” in 1966, a song that was never supposed to be a hit but somehow captured lightning in a bottle. It’s the kind of track that gets stuck in your head for days, with that unforgettable riff and Tamblyn’s voice sneering, “Boston, you’re my home!” Funny thing is, Tamblyn wasn’t even from Boston—he was a California kid through and through—but he nailed the city’s vibe so perfectly that the song became its unofficial anthem. To this day, every time the Red Sox or Bruins win at home, that riff kicks in, and the crowd loses its mind. That’s the power of a great song: it transcends its origins and becomes part of something bigger.
But Tamblyn wasn’t just a one-hit wonder, and The Standells weren’t just a flash in the pan. They popped up everywhere in the mid-‘60s, from an episode of The Munsters (where they played themselves, naturally) to The Bing Crosby Show and even some delightfully cheesy movies like Get Yourself a College Girl. They were the epitome of ‘60s cool—long hair, leather jackets, and an attitude that said, “We don’t care what you think.” In a way, they were punk before punk was a thing, laying the groundwork for bands like the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, who’d come along a decade later and crank the volume even higher.
And let’s not forget the family connection. Larry wasn’t the only Tamblyn making waves. His brother, Russ Tamblyn, was busy tearing up the screen as Riff in West Side Story, snapping his fingers and stealing scenes left and right. Meanwhile, his niece, Amber Tamblyn, would go on to carve out her own Hollywood career in movies like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and TV shows like House. Talent? Yeah, the Tamblyns had it in spades.
What’s even more impressive is that Larry never stopped. Long after the Standells’ heyday, he kept the music alive. He reformed the band in 2009, and in 2013, they even dropped a new album, Bump—proof that you’re never too old to rock. His nephew Dennis shared on Facebook, “He lived an incredible life… He was still making music well into his later years.” That’s the mark of a true artist: someone who can’t quit, won’t quit, because the music is too much a part of them.
In 2023, Tamblyn got the recognition he deserved when he was inducted into the California Music Hall of Fame, introduced by none other than his brother Russ. It was a fitting tribute to a man who helped define a genre and left his mark on rock history. But honestly, his real legacy is in every note of “Dirty Water,” every time it blasts through the speakers at Fenway or the Garden. That song is Boston’s heartbeat, and Tamblyn is the guy who gave it to them.
So, here’s to Larry Tamblyn: a rock ‘n’ roll pioneer, a Boston legend (even if he never lived there), and a man who never stopped chasing his musical dreams. Rest in peace, and thanks for the dirty water.
