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National Features >
City Pages
Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled
You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.
By Matt Snyders
Miami New Times
Pimp Daddy
The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.
By Natalie O'Neill
Riverfront Times
Babe 'n' Arms
Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.
By Nicholas Phillips
Dallas Observer
The Fight for Texas
Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.
By Sam Merten
The Bee Eaters
Saturday, August 7, hi-dive, 720-570-4500.
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By Jason Heller
Published on August 05, 2004
These kids nowadays and their band names. The Bee Eaters? Besides conjuring vague impressions of Fear Factor, the moniker seems to be yet another puke-inducing exercise in cutesy cleverness. Luckily, there's nothing remotely glib or smirking about the Bee Eaters' music. Hailing from the decidedly non-rapid locale of Rapid City, South Dakota, the quartet just released its self-titled debut, a brash, fun and unpretentious specimen of brainy pop that doesn't once let its A-plus report card get in the way of busting out some synapse-attacking noise. Like a post-punk Kill Creek or a corn-fed Ted Leo, the Bee Eaters whip up a honey-sweet buzz that still has its stinger stuck firmly in the rumbling stomach of Midwestern indie rock. Ask for it by name.
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