Today’s edition of the 2006 invite-only Pandemic Poll of local artists and music scene players features the inimitable William Fucking Reed, who carries with him a list of impressive credits: DJ/promoter for both Shake! at the Rogue and Pretty Vacant at Anderson’s Fifth Estate, radio DJ for the Last Broadcast…
Tyler King’s been an institution in the hardcore scene for years, with a background (as you’ll read later in his Pandemic Poll results) booking matinee acts at CBGB’s. Lately you can catch him behind the bar at the Stray Cat in Tempe when he’s not booking acts like Witchcraft around…
That’s what I’m talkin’ about Just received word yesterday afternoon that the Brickhouse in Phoenix on Jackson Street won its battle to regain a liquor license. Here’s the missive that went out: Apperently the (real) City of Phoenix spoke a little louder than the City council. PEOPLE>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The Brickhouse is…
Local manager and impresario Psyko Steve has spent much of the last year touring and managing DeSole, and is currently managing the Stilletto Formal. He got creative with his Top 5 list for the Pandemic Poll (it’s open for interpretation like that) and sent over his list of the top…
So Much Silence is an awesome little music/mp3 blog run by a guy named Kevin Murphy, who seems to have pretty goddamn good taste in music. He also does some pretty nifty shit, like putting together a mix of the “Essential Q-Tip Mix,” side A of which he posted today…
I’m fighting bouts of nausea (some sort of stomach bug I caught from my nephews Caden and Torin, I’m assuming) and trying to get my ass well enough to hit up the rock shows this weekend. Tomorrow evening, if all goes well, I’ll be off to Angelo’s Lounge at 16th…
Brodie’s a fave of singer/songwriter fans from around the ‘Nix, and many of us are sad to hear he’s leaving town, headed back to Cali. He’s leaving in style though, with a “celebrity” roast next Saturday, the 16th, at Trunk Space appropriately entitled Fuck You, Brodie Hubbard. Here’s his submission…
In this week’s installment of my column Revolver, I take up with Zack Vinyard, guitarist for Glendale band Rizir, who’s been arrested twice for disorderly conduct because his band was practicing at his house (at perfectly sane hours). The complainants, his neighbors to the rear, have called the Glendale P.D…
1. Snoop Dogg, The Blue Carpet Treatment (Geffen) 2. Akon, Konvicted (Umvd) 3. Jay-Z, Kingdom Come (Roc-a-Fella) 4. Incubus, Light Grenades (Sony) 5. The Game, Doctor’s Advocate (Geffen) 6. John Legend, Once Again (Sony) 7. The Beatles, Love (Capitol) 8. Justin Timberlake, FutureSex/LoveSounds (Jive) 9. Fergie, The Dutchess (Interscope) 10…
“Just standing in front of an amp as though you’re being bathed in fuzzy volume is quite a nice feeling,” says bassist/organist Chris Ross of Australia’s latest gift to heaviosity, a stoner-rock trio from Sydney called Wolfmother. It makes him laugh to hear such seeming nonsense leave his mouth, but…
Sometimes a night out in Scottsdale with all things shiny and plastic is just what we need. The hordes of twentysomething bronzed babes and stylish studs remind us that the singles scene is alive, thriving and definitely doable. On Saturday, December 2, e4 Nightclub and Lounge hooked up with Energy…
In Backbeat Books’ newly published Skydog: The Duane Allman Story, author Randy Poe gives a thorough account of Duane’s recorded legacy up through his output with the Allman Brothers Band, which amounts to two studio albums and a legendary Fillmore live set. These remain the benchmark by which every subsequent…
Wendy O. Williams always said she liked to make “aggressive art,” and that’s what she did as the front woman for ’80s punk-metal band The Plasmatics — sporting a Mohawk on TV, wearing nothing but electrical tape over her nipples, blowing up luxury cars and school buses, cutting guitars in…
With 1988’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Chuck D and Public Enemy positioned hip-hop as “the CNN of black culture,” raging against the machine while bringing a noise as revolutionary as it was intense. The first true hip-hop masterpiece, it placed second, behind The Ramones’…
The guys in White Demons may occasionally wear eyeliner and tight jeans, but there is not a single song about a chick on this CD and not one stinky whiff of shitty emo. What we’ve got here instead is explosive, trashy, borderline-glam punk ‘n’ roll with shouted choruses and crisp,…
There’s just something so awesomely asinine about a hicked-out country cover of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus,” which is the leadoff track on this EP of eclectic, acoustic remakes. Mourning Woody turns the dark techno-pop hit into a jangly, upbeat hoedown of a song, and in the process accomplishes something almost…
The Weary Boys and Rose’s Pawn Shop show is the best double bill in bluegrass for both purists and evolutionists. RPS has a malleable alt-country sound, wrapped up in skillfully crafted songs with vocal harmonies and elaborate instrumentation, like “Lone Rider,” which opens with what sounds like a banjo sounding…
In eyelinered Chicago goth-pop wanna-bes Kill Hannah’s sort-of hit “Kennedy,” singer Mat Devine brags that he wants to be a Kennedy and, after living fast and breaking hearts and kissing the girls of centerfolds on the tongue, die young. We don’t really believe Devine, because two songs later on that…
You don’t have to be a dork to like Primus, but these days it sure helps. Dismissed by critics and hipsters alike as “cartoonish weirdo wankery” and almost universally named as the scapegoat for the nü-metal holocaust of the late ’90s, Les Claypool and company may have a hard time…
Voted most likely to bring an accordion and dance-punk beats to the emo-kid table at lunch, the exquisitely dressed young men of Panic! At the Disco took their first step down the road to superstardom not by being from the same Las Vegas stomping grounds as Brandon Flowers or even…
When it made its first crude, unintelligible blast onto the metal landscape, no one could have foreseen that Napalm Death would do anything other than flare out into obscurity as a quickly worn novelty. But the band, now grinding away into its 25th year, would not only go on to…
Fuck amps that go to 11 — Tim Carroll lives life with the volume ratcheted up to 20. The 48-year-old gay vocalist for Minneapolis punk foursome Faggot is hardly shy about his sexual orientation, jamming it down the throats of anyone attending their riotous gigs, during which Carroll and his…
