Fifteen fuckin’ songs! Bang for your buck! Puttin’ fuckin’ bounce in the mosh pit, motherfuck! Rollin’ wit Napster! Get the fuck back! Freddy D. is still pissed (yeah) — an’ he’s bustin’ out the smack! Cargo pants be saggin’ — spray-paint can be taggin’! Phat-mad mike skillz. Say: Fuck, yeah!…
A friend of mine commented this morning that a George Bush presidency might actually be good for the arts world — not because, as some have suggested, a conservative commander-in-chief would unite the fringe in fighting a common enemy. Rather, my friend would be so wary about catching a glimpse…
Idaho is best known for two things: potatoes and militias. Caustic Resin, with Rainbow Sugar, Monday, November 20, at the Lions Lair, doesnt have a lot in common with either of those, but its still a worthwhile addition to the states export list. Though the band hails from the same…
Just because each one of the guys in Tinker’s Punishment, Wednesday, November 22, at the Soiled Dove, is just about as cute as a button, dont write them off as just another Backstreet Boys-like boy band. With the release of If This Cant Last Forever — a CD thats filled…
The chances of running into an old-world-style traveling carnival in Denver are pretty slim, but Rock Island will offer its best approximation with Muse, a theatrical family of freaks that it will house on Friday, November 17. Its a good thing the Ringling Brothers have left town, as Muses seedy-sided…
For avant-garde composers Chris Cutler and Thomas Dimuzio, musical ideas are kind of like eggs in an earthquake: They hatch, they crack, they shatter and ooze, and they can leave your senses scrambled. One thing’s certain, ladies and yolks: The best place to be when the tectonic plate hits the…
The lineage of the African diaspora resonates in the raps and sounds of Reflection Eternal, a duo consisting of Brooklyn-based Talib Kweli and Cincinnati-bred DJ Hi-Tek. Combining raps about the middle passage, shout-outs to Nina Simone, jazz-inflected B-boyisms and streetwise jams, Reflection Eternal traces a musical journey from the present…
Albert Ayler would be ‘acid jazz’ to me,” says William Yale, bassist for the Denver- and Boulder-based United Dope Front. Ironically, the point helps explain why Constant Elevation, United Dope Front’s second full-length recording, released last month, establishes the band as one of the area’s finest purveyors of acid jazz…
The problem with a lotta power pop (aside from its frequent lack of both power and pop) is the exaggerated sugariness of its words. The honeyed quality of the hooks and harmonies inspires too many of its practitioners to go lyrically gooey as well, resulting in a musical sameyness that…
It’s pretty easy to dismiss the bulk of neo-swing acts as sentimental revivalists, especially when the biggest hits to surface from the swing revival so far have either hinged on historic themes (“Zoot Suit Riot”) or been hands-down covers of yesteryear’s favorites (“Jump, Jive and Wail”). For all the noise…
Edelman’s third release is a wondrous, acoustic collection, packed with unflinching accounts of adult life that carry the Americana form to new (and welcome) terrain. With songs that run from spare laments to giddy, unplugged anthems, Edelman’s neo-folk sound blends threads of traditional Appalachian and Irish music with contemporary songwriter…
Ah, well, another election come and gone. Come January, Mr. What’s-His-Name will start having his L.L. Bean catalogues forwarded to Pennsylvania Avenue and commence boring us on TV. All in all, the campaign was a generally dull affair, but it had its moments. We got to see George W. Bush…
Consider the beautifully inverted recording career of Patricia Barber. First she establishes herself as an innovative stylist and fearless fusioneer, flouting convention with cool-jazz treatments of pop/rock classics such as “Light My Fire” and “Black Magic Woman,” upsetting expectation with mordant anthems-for-the-times like “If This Isnt Jazz.” Only then does…
Dear Marsha, Friday, November 10, and Saturday, November 11, at Josephina’s, has emerged as one of the local scene’s most energetic and exuberant bands. Take, for example, the name of the band’s debut CD, released in 1998: Woo-Hoo!, an exclamatory moniker that mirrors the band’s attitude toward live performance. Dear…
Rock Island heads out for a new adventure with Beat Jungle, presented by IWS every Wednesday night beginning November 15. Each week, the Jungle will feature guest graffiti artists and a changing roster of DJs and live musicians, with the first nights festivities led by Minezai; DJs EK77, VAJRA, 120…
It gets so you don’t even read the adjectives in the press releases. Week after week, brown envelopes full of this typescript hooey come sliding through the mail slot, each one painted in the broadest histrionic strokes: “a band to make even the most jaded postpunk listener pump his fist…
In 1995, punk was, once again, dead. What still lived in the hearts of the punk faithful who lived and made music in the nation’s capitol, however, was eternal hope — or maybe just a stubborn denial of the genre’s passing. Washington, D.C., was all too desperately hanging on to…
Looking back on it now, the film roles Corey Feldman played in the late ’80s and early ’90s might have been some kind of predictor of the trouble he was to face in the years ahead: He played the attention seeking cutup in The Goonies, the volatile, ear-mangled son of…
As a general rule, men should not attempt to talk to their women the way Barry White does, especially if those men are white, fat and drunk. Yet here comes Greg Dulli, he of the Afghan Whigs, safely pillow-talking himself all the way through Twilight, a new side project that’s…
The neo-power-pop movement is like pretty much every other musical revival (ska, swing, salsa and so on): In the end, it’s motivated by nostalgia for an era that’s gone but not entirely forgotten — which isn’t exactly a recipe for new, fresh or surprising sounds, is it? But also like…
A list of the individual injustices perpetuated against heavy metal could stretch longer than the blond hair on Vince Neil’s head. Amid the distraction of spandex pants, groupie Olympics and songs about nookie, hard rock’s really had a tough time over the past fifteen years or so. Though there’s no…
Richard Buckner’s new album, The Hill, is as instantly recognizable as his music: It’s bleak, poignant and packs an understated emotional wallop that seems to reveal new depth and meaning with each spin. Which is slightly odd, since the lyrics aren’t his, but those of turn-of-the-century American poet Edgar Lee…
