Joan of Arc is not a band. Yeah, it just released an album (A Portable Model of, on Jade Tree Records). Yeah, individually, the members are musicians. They have guitars, bass, drums, etc. But as a unit, Joan of Arc is a sculptor of sonic objets d’art, and cannot be…
Olympia, capital of the state of Washington, is an unlikely candidate for indie-rock capital of the nation. That becomes especially clear when observing it against the backdrop of the annual Olympia Lakefair, a weeklong festival that draws crowds from all over rural Washington to watch the parade and fireworks and…
Immaculately clothed in thrift-store suits and sporting scuffed wing tips, the members of East Bay foursome the Hi-Fives shimmer with a panache that extends beyond their wardrobe and separates them from their Lookout Records peers. While Lookout mainstays like the Mr. T Experience, the Queers, Squirtgun, etc., define the pop-punk,…
Unless you’ve been isolated from civilization for the past six months, you know that the commercial music biz has been pushing “electronica” as the next big thing, signing geeks with samplers at the same rate it signed grunge bands back in ’92. What you might not have noticed yet is…
“I think we’re the only high school band that stayed together after graduation,” says 20-year-old guitarist Jeff Bufano, who along with guitarist Chris Corak (20), bassist Andy Eames (20) and drummer Jim Knapp (21) make up Reuben’s Accomplice, a north Phoenix “emo” band that has been playing in the Valley…
When Kathleen Hanna screamed, “Don’t need your dick to fuck!” on Bikini Kill’s first album, she defined the burgeoning riot-grrl movement in one blunt lyric. It was 1990, and a network of punk rock “grrls” in Olympia, Washington, had formed bands to rail against male domination in the punk scene…
Last month, Revolver’s special investigations team (me) went undercover at the South by Southwest Music and Media Conference, the music industry’s largest, most (in)famous artist showcase/convention/trade show. Cynicism grates on the soul after a while, and my trip was an attempt to find a glimmer of artist-oriented purity in an…
The Offspring Ixnay on the Hombre (Columbia) As music-industry success stories go, the Offspring’s quick ascent was an anomaly; selling eight and a half million records on an indie label was unheard of until Smash broke in 1994. Adolescent subject matter and a formulaic blend of Orange County punk and…
As the queer-core genre continues to expand, one band remains a touchstone–the homo-trinity of Pansy Division. Sure, there have been gays in rock since there was rock, but when it comes to singing the joys of rimming and the tribulations of leaving the closet at an early age, Pansy Division…
For a company president, Superchunk front man Mac McCaughan starts work late. It’s 11 a.m. in North Carolina by the time he slides into the Chapel Hill offices of his label, Merge, for an interview. McCaughan sounds relaxed and amiable on the phone, and with good reason. Besides recently releasing…
Supersuckers Nita’s Hideaway January 21, 1997 “Welcome to the rock show,” Supersuckers singer/spokesman Eddie Spaghetti exhorted a packed house from behind his “rock-star shades.” Looking a lot like Andy Kaufman in a cowboy hat, Spaghetti kept the absurdity level high throughout his band’s roller-coaster set of hillbilly hard-core. “Here’s a…
The Beach Boys single-handedly popularized surf culture in America. Fine. The Beach Boys were the West Coast nemesis of the Beatles. Great. The Beach Boys are the commercial inseminators of surf rock. Yippee-skip. I know, I’ve read the books. But I’m sorry–to anyone under 30, the Beach Boys mean little…
1. Warrant, Belly to Belly (CMC/BMG) Duh. 2. Great White, Let It Rock (Imago) Long since abandoned by fans and glory, these bloated, balding bozos are still searching for that lost Mott/Bad Company riff and any stripper who still cares. 3. KISS, Unplugged (Mercury) Weren’t the lunchboxes, TV shows, comic…
Seven inches of hard, black plastic, shaped to satisfy. The seven-inch record remains the driving force of the indie ethic–the only format that anyone with heart and scarce dough can afford to produce, and any gutter punk can “spare change” enough to purchase. The vinyl single is also a classic…
“Supergroup” is one of the lamest, most cliched labels a music critic can slap on a band. The term conjures the image of conceited, balding, fallen guitar gods posed riding the cash cow on a reunion tour. Doubtless, Berkeley, California’s the Peechees will get the superdupe treatment by plenty of…
More than a decade ago, the divine ones of punk rock sent forth a messenger to spread the virtues of three chords, sneers and six-packs; a proverbial vessel to carry on the proud missionary tradition of the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, and the Beach Boys. Its name was the Queers,…
Call it crusty garage rock, or high-octane, drag-race punk. Dave Crider, founder/owner of Estrus Records and front man for the Monomen, doesn’t care what label you slap on his record company, or his band. He “just wants to rock.” Since 1987, Crider and his wife, Becky, have been pressing records…
Cynicism prevails in the current climate of indie angst, and it takes balls for an underground band like cub to make a career of putting out upbeat, even occasionally pretty records. Except balls is one thing (two things?) these Vancouver masters of la-la pop don’t have. An all-grrl trio, cub…
Sebadoh leader Lou Barlow has been the reluctant godfather of experimental lo-fi since his groundbreaking acoustic four-track work on the Boston anti-folk trio’s first two albums (Freed Man, 1989, and Weed Forestin, 1990). Those two records were followed by Barlow’s Sentridoh solo series, most of which he recorded in his…
godheadSilo is a highly subversive experimental noise-punk duo whose base of operations is Olympia, Washington. Known audio terrorist activities include use of unnaturally low bass frequencies rendered at brutal volume. S.O.S. field operative reports indicate this group is a clear and present danger to high-fidelity stereophonic equipment (or lo-fi, for…
Revolver Goes to Court One clear thought goes through my head the night of April 30 as I watch three beef cakes in Gibson’s security shirts encircle a scared, scrawny kid pinned against a light pole. And that thought is This is a bunch of bullshit. Five minutes earlier, Chris…
To: New Times Music Department From: The Revolver Re: A Vinyl Manifesto Print this or I’ll blow you up. –R Why vinyl? Because vinyl is the original frontier and the final outpost of integrity and idealism in a multinational industry so putrid with greed that Fife Slimington should consider it…
