From their perch on the stage of the Bluebird Theater, the members of Matson Jones look almost like shadows. Drummer Ross Harada, limbs splayed, pounds a beat as bare as a rattling skeleton. Next to him, Matt Regan coaxes groaning notes from the belly of his upright bass. Seated before…

First you throw it on, blasé, one ear on the stereo and the other on the evening news reporting the dramatic conclusion of the Michael Jackson trial. After all, who expects anything from Elevator, Hot Hot Heat’s second album? The band blew its load with Make Up the Breakdown, a…

Halfway through 2005, nothing should set off a music fan’s cred alert quicker than a band whose sound falls almost exactly between those of the White Stripes and the Strokes. Cincinnati’s Heartless Bastards fit that description — and yet such simple comparisons come nowhere close to doing justice to the…

The lo-fi crusade of the ’90s seems to have left almost as many casualties as the Summer of Love did — only instead of burned-out old hippies, we’ve been bequeathed with bummed-out ex-slackers, still slouching in some post-collegiate cloud of dirty socks, pot smoke and scratched Sebadoh records. Landlordland’s laundry…

With Commit This to Memory, Motion City Soundtrack has carved a milestone in music history. Behold: the worst rock record you will ever hear. Okay, so that’s a pretty strong claim — after all, the CD’s insipid, Weezer-ass- licking-Jimmy Eat World sound is hardly offensive. Tight and spotless, Commit This…

Don’t get a Chevy,” warns Sonya Decman, bassist for the Symptoms. “Bad crash-test ratings.” Sprawled in the living room of guitarist Josh Bergstrand’s Highland home, Decman is giving advice to Bergstrand’s roommate, Eli Mishkin, who is shopping for a tour van for his own band, Hot IQs. But like some…

On the website belonging to Denver’s Filmstrip Series, leader John Common lists dozens of ludicrous band names that didn’t make the cut — his favorite being Walt Shitman. And while that wise-ass moniker might seem like a non sequitur at first, in a weird kind of way it almost fits…

“Will the white noise of words survive a war declared on signs?” It’s lines like these, from “We’re All Going to Die,” the opening track of Make Believe’s eponymous debut EP, that have helped solidify leader Tim Kinsella’s notoriety as one of the most pretentious voices in indie rock. But…

Lucero tries so hard that sometimes it’s difficult to watch. The Memphis group’s last two records, Tennessee and That Much Further West, were rousing exercises in roots rock that nonetheless left listeners wondering when singer/guitarist Ben Nichols and company might finally come into their own. Nobody’s Darlings is damned near…

It’s sadly appropriate that Oasis named its new record Don’t Believe the Truth. For the last decade, the group has been living in a state of denial: While publicly maintaining the swagger and arrogance of its mid-’90s heyday, the Liams and crew have been dribbling out the meekest music of…

The process of making music isn’t always idyllic. Just ask Jme White. Blusom, the duo he co-founded with singer/guitarist Mike Behrenhausen, just released The Metapolitan, its sophomore full-length on the eminent Kansas City imprint, Second Nature. And while the group’s mix of sweet, sad indie pop and warped electronica may…

Strike up the ticker-tape parade: After almost a year of being lost in space, Thank God for Astronauts is re-entering the atmosphere. Singer/guitarist Kent Phillips, guitarist Alisdair Rich, bassist Steve Jones and drummer Bryan Feuchtinger were last seen on stage together last summer; overwhelmed by outside stress and obligations –…

Chic beats, A Certain Ratio riffs and David Bowie allure? Few bands in the so-called death-disco explosion of this millennium have straddled such disparate elements with the grace and glamour of Glass Candy and the Shattered Theater. Anchored in a punk ethic that’s more Bikini Kill than Blondie, the Portland…

Imagine the all-employee band at a Guitar Center company picnic — only instead of washed-up ponytail dudes and zit-faced Slipknot geeks, the guys on stage are true hipster bluebloods: One was a founding member of screamo forebear Nation of Ulysses, and the whole group has collaborated twice with the post-rock…

Colder Than Fargo’s debut, In the Basement of the Chapel, strove to embody its name: Frigid and hymnal, the disc was a lucid — if occasionally flawed — translation of simplicity and soul into song. But Blue (whose release will be celebrated Friday, June 3, at the hi-dive, with Channing…

To call Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus and Smog’s Bill Callahan icons of indie rock is no mere hyperbole. But besides the fact that the two have birthed thousands of misfit, hyper-intellectual troubadours, the parallels in their careers are uncanny. Both began recording in the late ’80s; both released EPs on the…

Just a few short months ago, Superstring Theory was a band without a head or legs. Comprising a mere two members — Justin Reinking on synthesizer and Todd Houston on guitar — the outfit plied an atmospheric instrumental noise crippled by a lack of vocals or drums. But besides setting…

“In Bed All Day.” “Sad for a Day.” “Sad Sad Song.” Titles like these might lead you to believe that Omaha’s Tilly and the Wall are purveyors of some serious suicidal gloom — or at least a little teenage cutting. Of course, it’s kind of hard to beat out a…

The Washington, D.C., punk scene centered around Dischord Records is notorious for its incestuous family tree. The Medications, one of the newest outfits on the imprint’s roster, fits right in. Guitarist Devin Ocampo and bassist Chad Molter constituted the core of the underrated Dischord act Faraquet, and Ocampo beat skins…

For the acutely sensitive among us, self-image is often defined by what one doesn’t want to be. With Making Beds in a Burning House, the new full-length by Troubled Hubble, the Illinois quartet makes it absolutely clear what kind of trendy genres it rejects: rock revival, dance punk, post-hardcore, freak…

We threw a bunch of stuff together. And it was really fun.” Even though Butchy Fuego just succeeded in reducing the origins of his band, Pit er Pat, to a two-sentence punchline, it’s an apt simplification. The Chicago-based ensemble of drummer Fuego, keyboardist Fay Davis-Jeffers and bassist Rob Doran came…