

Laid-back, cash-only neighborhood joint offering beers on tap & a steady lineup of indie rock shows.
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Union Tavern in Somerville
Reviews
I’m with the band Slay the Giants who recently performed there, and was informed that they are not getting paid, even though 2 of the 4 bands who performed that night did. How is that in any way a good way to do business?!
I didn’t realize this was a popularity contest where only the bands chummy with the owner get paid. And don’t even try to say it was lack of people because I was there and saw how many people showed up. There’s no way anyone could know who was there for what band. And one band had never even performed live so how were they drawing a crowd and still got paid?!
Any gigging artist knows how hard it is to lug all the equipment and set up and then give their all for a show. But to then not get paid, even after you were told you would, is just a slap in the face and completely unacceptable. And based on other reviews, we are not the first band to run into this problem here.
ADDITIONALLY the stage was so small only a 3 piece could fit on it comfortably, there was just a blank white sign out front with no name on it, they dont serve any food, and the parking sucks.
I’ve provided a pic to prove just how cramped it was on stage. Luckily 2 of the members have wireless hookups so they could move off stage so they didnt impale each other.
Based on the precedent below, definitely hoping for a spicy reply from the owner who clearly takes everything too personally. However, it’s almost impressive how impermeable he is to any of the abundant feedback that is offered here on how to become a better venue.
Union square is lucky to have an affordable music venue at all, but I wish it weren’t in the hands of someone who cares so little about people’s experience.
Bonus points for having three bathrooms, which was a lifesaver.
I’ll sit back with my popcorn to see what unhinged reply the owner comes up with.
When life hits me like a rogue wave on Revere Beach, when the Sox bullpen blows a lead, when I remember how much my rent costs—I take a deep breath and picture him.
The beautiful hunk of muscle behind the bar. A man among men. So skilled, so effortlessly cool, that he doesn’t just pour beer—he bestows it upon you, like some golden elixir from the gods. And the food? Forget about it. Gordon Ramsay himself could walk in, take one bite, and say, “This guy wins.”
My earliest memory in life? Sitting on my grandfather’s knee as he looked me square in the eye and said: “Kid, three things in life are certain—Death, Taxes, and a great night (or day, if you’ve got the stomach for it) at Union Tavern.” And I have lived by those words ever since.
I can’t even imagine a world without this place. If Union Tavern vanished, what would I do? Move to New York? Start drinking seltzers unironically? No. I refuse. So let me say this…Union Tavern isn’t just a bar. It’s a way of life. It’s the last true stronghold of greatness in a city being overrun by juice bars and luxury condos. And for that? I am eternally grateful.
Now, somebody get me a beer.