Features

The kindly goblins who orchestrate the inner machinations of this here web-hole were nice enough to finally equip me with two things: 1) a list of links more befitting my “tendencies” and 2) an email account. So it is now that I beseech, nay, beg you to grace me with personal correspondence at matt.neff (at) newtimes.com. Suggestions, review requests, pizza recipes, and ferret-care tips are all welcome, but make sure you know what you’re doing—I don’t want to be knocked out in bed all week humming some nasty pop punk melody or sniveling with the woeful knowledge that I trimmed Chompy’s furry lil digging implements to the detriment of his (currently robust) health.

We’ve kinda had something of a contentious history with the folks at AZPunk (www.azpunk.com) over the past few years. The misfits and miscreants who populate the local Web site’s notorious message board have been known to rip us a new one for any number of reasons (such as slamming us for covering local musicians or scenesters that they feel don’t deserve any ink). But just like parents of naughty little children, we love ’em all just the same, which is why we wanna plug tonight’s AZPunk Fundraiser at the Wok Star, the rock club inside Scottsdale eatery Chop & Wok (7136 East Shea Boulevard).

In this week’s issue of the Phoenix New Times (on news stands now across the Valley), there’s a pretty off-the-chain profile in the music section by yours truly about local rapper Maja (a.k.a. H. Vincent Payne), a laid-back cat who offers a unique hip-hop style, whereby the 24-year-old drops rhymes chiefly about his love of anime, video games, ’80s cartoons, and other geeky topics de jour. The dude also lays down his lyrical dynamite in both English and Japanese (and occasionally even en Español), and has been a hit with nerdcore fans, Japanophiles, and other geeky types at the various anime conventions around the Southwest that he’s performed at, and even as far away as “The Land of the Rising Sun” (read: Japan).

Phoenix-based melodic rock group Runaway Diamonds has been asked to perform at the CMJ Music Marathon next month in New York. We’ve long been fans of the band’s quirky indie rock (we wrote a music feature about ’em earlier this year), and are glad to have them representing the PHX in NYC.

Call him the John Darnielle of the North. Like the Mountain Goats’ songsmith, John Samson of Winnipeg, Canada, has a high, reedy voice, modestly folk-inflected sound, and a keen lyrical wit. Samson played in the early ’90s with political punkers Propagandhi. In ’97, tired of catering to testosterone-fueled mosh pits,…

Since its inception, reality TV hasn’t brought us much in the way of realism. Someone who wouldn’t normally nosh on a plateful of live Madagascar hissing cockroaches breaking down and chewing on a few shouldn’t fall under the “reality” category just because there’s prize money involved and an accredited medic…

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the Atomic Comics location in north Phoenix is a hubbub of rampant geek activity. Dozens of nerds of varying ages and belt sizes mill around the store looking for back issues of the Amazing Spider-Man, trading gaming tips, or participating in Yu-Gi-Oh! collectible card game…

Weirdness abounds is this week’s rendition of Future Shock, as we’re pimping the “just announced” concerts of numerous acts coming to the PHX in the near future that are kinda “out there” in many different respects, whether its outlandish stage performances, strange album titles, or bizarre music videos.

There’s no reason to fear 50 Cent, right? That’s what I tell myself while heading towards Manhattan’s Flatiron District for a one-on-one interview with the much-shot gangster emcee. The guy has no beef with me, and besides, he hangs out with people like Dustin Hoffman and Justin Timberlake, perhaps the two-unscariest guys in the universe.

So why — as I wait to be buzzed in behind G-Unit Clothing headquarters’ wall of bulletproof glass — am I shaking?

One of Jim Louvau’s favorite talking points when making a case for his new band The Attitude is the void to be filled because there are no more new rock stars. And he’s right. If you want cocksure swagger and violence, rappers have that segment fully under control. And as…

Juliette Lewis, the actress with the off-kilter gaze probably best known for her role as Mallory in Natural Born Killers, experienced a full-blown musical conversion a few years ago and formed a band called the Licks to record some Stooges-style rock. Lewis took some time while doing laundry to talk…

Blues Traveler frontman John Popper made headlines last March when the 40-year-old vocalist and harmonica player demonstrated that mouth harps aren’t the only weapons he likes to wield. After popping Popper’s SUV for going 111 miles per hour and collaring the bluesman for carrying a small amount of marijuana, Washington…

Whatever animates Riverboat Gamblers lead singer Mike Wiebe, the audience is giving him a wide berth lest it prove contagious. Dragging the mic cord like a lifeline, Wiebe climbs on tables, mounts structural supports, and hangs from exposed pipes — within the first 15 minutes of the show. Behind him,…

Halls of fame are all well and good, but face it: they never ever get it right. There’s always about twelve dozen perfectly great artists that get completely overlooked, or worse, ignored in favor of total mediocrity, and who gets to argue about it? No one, because halls of fame are HALLS OF FAME. Immortal—unassailable—in the postmodern deterioration of all that is good, holy, reliable, and worth clinging to for dear life, halls of fame comfortably bludgeon the gullible masses into seeing The Canon and/or give something for tourists to do when they go to Cleveland. Wouldn’t we be better off just admitting that Cleveland just can’t be gussied up?

You won’t need to crack open any Shasta when reading this week’s edition of Future Shock, since the latest crop of “just announced” concerts heading to the Valley is already packed with plenty of pop. From squeaky clean bubblegum starlets to cutie-pie pop-punkers, we’re gonna be giving you some sugar, baby (as well as upcoming shows by some punk rock legends and a noted jazz superstar).

On a late summer afternoon, harmonious duo Rachel Cox and Patrick Sullivan of Oakley Hall are stationed just outside the subway entrance on the southwest corner of New York City’s Union Square. They are busking. As in, both are singing high and hard, without amplification, and Patrick is playing guitar…

The three most sentimental places in the world are cemeteries, airports, and tattoo parlors. Because the first two are verboten, thanks to the church and Homeland Security, Jake La Botz has been making good on the remaining option with his second annual Tattoos Across America tour. If you’ve ever wondered…

“Nobody wants to hear perfection, because nobody’s perfect,” Brandi Carlile declares over the phone as she lies on her lawn in Ravensdale, Washington — just outside the Starbucks capital. “It’s something I’ve learned playing live shows, too. People want you to fuck up.” The country-fried singer-songwriter, who’s as obsessed with…

MySpace is a baffling labyrinth. It’ll consume your whole day if you let it, and you’ll usually come away depressed by what you hear and see. But click the right link, and you can be neck-deep in a wondrous new world before you realize what’s happened. Or, in this case,…

If you tuned into MTV’s Video Music Awards this year, you may have noticed one big thing: they sucked. Between Britney Spears’ underwhelming performance (note to Brit: your career is over; you might as well pose for Playboy while your body is still somewhat nubile), Kanye West’s temper tantrum about not winning, and Kid Rock kicking Tommy Lee’s ass, the VMA’s were nothing but a sub-par Circus of the Stars, minus the cheesy ’80s leotards.

James Hunter may be one of the best kept secrets of the music world. In fact, Van Morrison called him “the best voice and best-kept secret in British R&B and soul.”

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I just finished reading issue number one of Z-Gun, a new print zine put out by Scott Soriano and Ryan Wells. It’s 40 pages long with feature length articles and interviews on Pink Reason, San Francisco art punk 1977-1982ish, Black Humor, and Not Not Fun Records, among other things, and they review a boatload of good and bad underground rock records with honesty and humor. If you want the dirt on good rock music in 2007, read this zine. Heaven knows that 99.9% of the zines ever released in the history of the earth suck horribly, yet this one, this one does not.