So they’re of legal drinking age now, and they look it, too: On the CD sleeve, Donnas A., C., F., and R. dress it up and tone it down ’til they resemble girls who went from serving cocktails to ordering them without having to flash fake IDs. Gone are the…
Isobel Campbell is the sensitive posh bird on the cover, wearing a cream twinset, looking like a romantic French schoolgirl holding a big fluffy black cat. Argghh! Blond girls and kitties, conservatory trained musicians and a member of Belle and Sebastian. If there were ever a vote for High Princess…
It’s that blasted rock iconography that gets in the way, screwing up what should be a fresh perspective and an unprejudiced listen. For example: If you’ve heard about Wisconsin-based trio Rainer Maria, you probably know that Caithlin De Marrais and Kyle Fischer met at a poetry workshop at the University…
Let’s face it — the tuba isn’t exactly a sexy instrument. When one thinks tuba, among the images generated are: polka, old men (detail: old men wearing black knee-high socks and bad plaid shorts) and flabby, elongated cheeks. Just how the New York-based trio Drums & Tuba produces such layered,…
It’s been a decade since the United States caught the electronic music bug, and one of our first rave-culture publications, Urb, celebrated its 10-year anniversary last month. Back in 1991, the future of American dance-culture reportage seemed as bright as that of the music, which was exploding with new ideas…
Gloritone drummer Scott Hessel is an avid sports fan. A regular at Phoenix Suns games and an avowed ESPN junkie, Hessel is familiar with the old notion of “taking one for the team.” And it’s fortunate, because that’s exactly what the trapsman did last Friday during an unbelievably outlandish appearance…
With feet nimbly perched in rootsy alt-country, luminous pop and never-say-die ’70s guitar rock, Denton, Texas, quartet 12LB. Test makes a memorable debut that does the region’s roots scene proud. Naturally, reference points do pop up, and the group clearly has the cruise control on its Econoline aimed at Austin…
Techno more than most styles of music is about the use of space. On the original Detroit tracks of the early ’80s, producers brought their synth lines and bass thuds close to the listener, in an attempt to bridge one in the analog/futuristic worlds that existed in their imaginations. Many…
Hi. It’s Keith Sweat. Remember me? Didn’t think so. Well, just to help you out, track number one on my new CD, Didn’t See Me Coming, is a little reminder of all my hits over the past 10 years. I know, I know, a little self-indulgent. Okay, maybe a little…
First and always, it was that voice, a sound that seemed to have traveled 500 years to get here. A clean, high tenor that indulged in no tricks or frills to make its point, but could hint at a cry or a prayer with just a subtle shift. A voice…
Forget Zen — you don’t have to engage in obtuse intellectual gymnastics or wrestle with metaphysical riddles to be perfectly at ease with being in the now. Just ask Daniel Black, lead singer and guitarist for San Diego-based quartet the And/Ors. On the morning of the band’s kickoff show of…
Sunday afternoon and the smell of pomade is heavy in the room. Such an air is to be expected when there are 40 or so rockabilly types packing a sweltering Cannery Row, whooping, hollering and generally acting about as rowdy as the bug-eyed XFL fans mugging on the TV screens…
Boston’s Abunai! formed five years ago and has been quietly but steadily accumulating an international fan base since its 1997 debut, Universal Mind Decoder. A mind-bending homage to the members’ diverse influences (Byrds, Pink Floyd, Richard Thompson, Amon Duul II, even “Maggot Brain”-era Funkadelic), it was followed a couple of…
The older Frank Black gets, the less he sounds like himself — something that probably happens to everybody at some point. But ever since Pudge let his monkey go to heaven, he flat-out refuses to scream at traffic anymore. Or at the powers that be. He’s like a tired prospectin’…
Putting it mildly, Icky Flix, the new DVD from the prepunk San Fran collective the Residents, is just the sort of wack Dadaist madness that could freak out even a post-Rose MacGowan Marilyn Manson on his best day (assuming the lovely Ms. MacGowan had a positive influence on the boy)…
Quick, name your favorite indoor arena. How about a midsize theater you’d frequent weekly regardless of what bands were on the bill? Now name the best stadium or sports complex to see a concert. Having trouble? That’s because concert ticket prices are too high to venture out even monthly and…
Death Cab for Cutie’s Forbidden Love EP is not, strictly speaking, an acoustic album. But in comparison to the group’s recent We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes long player, it’s a stripped-down affair of varying degrees. The opener, “Photobooth,” rides a simple drumbeat and playful bass line with…
Given the intense fetishism we Americans apply to the early ’90s grunge era, it’s nothing short of stupefying that the hard-rock subgenre’s punk/noize forebears have all but vanished in terms of systematic overhauls and resurrections of the once-significant back catalogues. Sonic Youth and the Birthday Party come to mind among…
Listening to Shipping News is a bit like getting into a drunken car accident: You’re not entirely sure what just happened, but you’re almost certain you don’t want it to happen again. The band’s songs favor length: Their average duration is about six minutes, during which guitar parts clock in…
In author Richie Unterberger’s estimation, no other decade produced as much great music as the ’60s. Of the many overlooked geniuses of that era, the author has chosen 19 to profile in his latest book, Urban Spacemen and Wayfaring Strangers: Overlooked Innovators and Eccentric Visionaries of ’60s Rock. And all…
Putting out compilations is one of the more dubious conventions of the recording industry, just a notch above the time-honored practice of getting first-time artists to sign away 98 percent of their royalty rights. “Best Of” collections often involve little more than slapping the most obvious hits from a dying…
“What the hell was the name of that band?” Nine Volt singer-songwriter Andy Mitchell is stumped. Sitting in a booth at downtown’s Chez Nous lounge with drummer Andy Mendoza and bassist Stevie Flores, the three are desperately trying to recall the name of the national group they recently opened up…
