Spinnnn … snap. Chamber loaded, safety off. You gotta be careful when you’re walking the underground–those crazy punk kids are everywhere, and they’re out for blood. But though thou walk through the valley of vinyl, thou shalt fear no evil, for Revolver is thy shepherd. Ear protectors on? Then just…
Wildlife biologists call it “fish fever”–a temporary madness that afflicts freshly weaned brown bears in the first summer they must fend for themselves. Summers in brown-bear country are as short as the winters are long, and eating before the snow falls is doubly a matter of life or death. Bears…
“It’s kinda hectic, man,” says Wyclef “Clef” Jean, the Haitian-blooded rapper, songwriter and sonic engineer for the Fugees. “A lot of things are going on.” And, Jean should have added, those things are pretty damn nice–the kinds of things that only happen to a group experiencing its commercial breakthrough. The…
Gin Blossoms Congratulations I’m Sorry (A&M) Being local heroes in the national spotlight carries its share of burdens, as the mixed-blessings title of Gin Blossoms’ second major-label release clearly references. No matter what the GBs do now to advance their career, somebody back home is going to be pissed. A…
Last April, members of the British pop-ambient trio Love and Rockets came perilously close to testing Neil Young’s contention that “it’s better to burn out than to fade away.” The musicians were in California to record L&R’s new album Sweet F.A. when the Laurel Canyon house inhabited by the band,…
Silly Rabbit Dust (Orphan Boy) The experimental rockers in Silly Rabbit make it one of the most danceable groups to emerge from Seattle’s postgrunge wasteland. This eight-piece urban groove machine consists of guitars, sequencers, an unstoppable rhythm section and something called a psychedelic illuminator (an elaborate, lighting-video rig designed to…
So I’m in Eastside Records a few days back looking for old Devo albums (don’t ask why), and I spot this stack of small, black handbills someone has placed at the bottom of the racks amid a smattering of other fliers for rock shows and raves. The bills in question…
Jay Farrar isn’t much of a talker. Son Volt’s 29-year-old singer/songwriter comes across in conversation like a man in desperate need of a nap. His voice is low and lazy, his thick, Midwestern drawl stretching what few words he utters into slow, groggy sentences. “It’s safe to say I’m not…
Come on, now, let’s be honest: Going to see the souped-up rerelease of Heavy Metal is a bad move, unless a) you’re about five bong hits beyond stoned silly; b) you have an insatiable taste for early ’80s cheese metal (hey, dude, Sammy Hagar rocks!); or c) you still worry…
The Mermen Songs of the Cows (Mesa/Bluemoon) San Francisco’s Mermen take the concept of instrumental surf music so far from shore that something new comes bubbling to the surface. It’s the audio equivalent of Dick Dale poached in psychedelics, a strum and twang that’s both invigorating and mesmerizing as it…
“Going down into town tonight/To drink our fill and start a fight.” So goes a line from “Helen Reddy,” the “hear me roar” opening track from the Piersons’ tempestuous debut CD, Humbucker, scheduled to hit shops Tuesday. Maybe it’s the put-up-or-shut-up seriousness of finally being encoded in digital oxide, but…
Here’s a mentally stimulating game–think of any song written in the last 45 years, then imagine Tom Jones singing it. No matter what your level of creativity, it should be tough to picture Jones botching a tune–any tune. In the last 30-plus years, theWelsh Wonder has recorded everything from “My…
Her name was Holly Golightly–not the Audrey Hepburn character in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but the Hollywood hooker who lived at the same hotel as the Beat Angels last October, when the Phoenix fivesome was in L.A. to finish recording its debut album, Unhappy Hour. “The Sunset Palms is a cheesy,…
We’re gonna make this one a letter-and-response column. Here’s the letter: “Was there really a good reason for David Holthouse to trash Brian Smith of the Beat Angels (Coda, February 15)? “Holthouse doesn’t have to like the Beat Angels’ music and he doesn’t have to listen to it, but does…
Groupies are a sore subject in the Phantom Surfers’ camp. “The only people who want to meet us are overweight record collectors looking for matrix numbers,” says bassist Michael Lucas, sighing. “The women who attend our shows have a few drinks and leave. In that respect, surf shows are a…
The Refreshments Fizzy, Fuzzy, Big & Buzzy (Mercury) There’s nothing like success to bring out the muttering bastards. Instead of celebrating this ubiquitous Tempe bar band’s major-label debut on Mercury, outspoken members and fans of less-fortunate local acts have taken to branding the three-year-old quartet’s sudden success as grossly undeserved…
Gunshot. Not the deep boom of a high-caliber revolver, but the sharp, evil pop of a nine millimeter. Everyone else in the room and the hall just outside it–there were eight of us, in all–hit the floor in a hurry and started making for the corners, the back walls, anywhere…
White Zombie bassist Sean Yseult speaks in the whiskey-and-cigarettes drawl of a heavy-metal road warrior, a title she’s earned after nearly four years of constant touring in support of her band’s 1992 major-label debut, La Sexorcisto, and last year’s follow-up, Astro-Creep: 2000. Over that time, Yseult says she’s learned a…
It’s January 29, but no one here’s calling it “Super Monday.” All last week, Tempe had been under siege as blimps of every shape and sponsor circled overhead like buzzards, and beer-guzzlin’ NFL enthusiasts of every shape and temperament took over the streets below. Throngs of out-of-town Dallas Cowboys fans…
Various artists From Dusk Till Dawn (Epic) Filmmaker Quentin Tarantino’s stab at a vampire thriller turned out to be a wobbly stake in the heart, but the setting of its gore-fest finale–a cavernous, border-town bordello called the “Titty Twister” that’s infested with the undead–made a good excuse for a killer…
Peculiar, plastic things from strangers have recently become a motif in my life. The first was a Jesus-head Pez dispenser (yeah, I didn’t know they made ’em, either), mailed with no return address, phone number or accompanying explanation other than a crayoned note that read, “Sinners Re-Pez.” Next up, Big…
Theater Works used to be housed in a small, barnlike building on West Thunderbird Road, a facility which made up in charm some of what it lacked in space and flexibility. With the inventive sets and lighting designs of technical director Jim Hyte, the old barn made an excellent, intimate…
