Ten minutes can be an eternity. Take, for example, the Great Redneck Hope’s new CD, Behold the Fuck Thunder — a nine-minute-and-eighteen-second, eleven-track geyser of heaviness and schizophrenia that stretches (shrinks?) the idea of the “full-length album” to the point of implosion. It takes longer to read Fuck Thunder’s song…

It happens sometimes when you walk down the street in a faraway city: A face floats out of the crowd, so familiar it hurts, so unexpected it makes your chest clench. You can’t place it; it doesn’t belong to any particular person you’ve ever known. But your whole being resonates…

Trashcan Sinatras was already a throwback when it popped up in the early ’90s — a reincarnation of the jangly, Smiths-inflected pop that had been supplanted by the psychedelic groove of the Stone Roses and the ambient barrage of My Bloody Valentine. But the group wasn’t without a certain charm,…

Every DJ is a junkie — a record junkie, that is. Digging through moldy piles of used vinyl and lining your crates with rare sides isn’t just a means to an end for a DJ, but a sheer rush in and of itself. Dusty fingers, bleary eyes, dog-eared want lists…

If any more proof was needed to bolster the claim that the public education system — and, indeed, society itself — is barreling straight into the crapper, behold Forth Yeer Freshman. The arch-nemesis of intellectuals and spellchecks everywhere, FYF has been wrecking eardrums and test scores across Colorado and the…

There, in a dark corner of the thrift store, trembling beneath a pile of Commodore 64s and busted answering machines, you might find a Casio. Never considered much of a serious musical instrument, the Casio keyboard is the type of cheap, disposable noisemaker you might have let your younger siblings…

Laramie, Wyoming, is a far cry from the urban borough of Queens, New York. And yet Teenage Bottlerocket — Laramie’s biggest punk-rock export — is in spiritual accord with that most legendary gang of Big Apple pinheads, the Ramones. Born from the Homeless Wonders, a staple of the Front Range…

Many bizarre, X-Files-worthy theories claim that the earth’s center, rather than being a blazing chunk of molten ore, is actually hollow and populated by gnome-like necromancers and mystic elves. Fort Collins power trio Core of the Earth (playing Friday, August 13, at the 15th Street Tavern) sounds like it could…

Dan “The Automator” Nakamura isn’t infallible, but he’s damn close. From Doctor Octagon to Handsome Boy Modeling School to Gorillaz, the respected beat-maker and producer has parlayed a string of innovative collaborations into almost universal critical applause. His latest project, a partnership with vocalist Daryl Palumbo of the emo-core juggernaut…

There’s no disputing the historical importance of Live at Max’s Kansas City. Recorded in 1970 and released two years later, it was a serendipitous document of what wound up being the Velvet Underground’s last show with Lou Reed. The album, though, has always undeniably sounded like shit. Captured on a…

I never really considered myself a singer,” says Year Future’s Sonny Kay with a laugh. “Especially not in Angel Hair. That would have been a little ridiculous.” Kay isn’t exaggerating. Angel Hair, an outfit he fronted in Boulder in the early ’90s, has since become legendary for its flesh-peeling, bone-scouring…

Some records demand the closest of attention, the most probing scrutiny, upon which they promise to uncloak their hearts and unravel their inner sonic secrets. But Ataxia, an ad hoc collaboration between the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ John Frusciante and Fugazi’s Joe Lally, is one of rock’s glaring rarities: a…

With war being waged at every level and in almost every corner of the world right now, it’s no surprise that Massachusetts metal powerhouse Shadows Fall has named its upcoming album The War Within. The disc’s first single, “The Power of I and I,” is a venting of pent-up savagery…

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,…

There’s a certain swagger to ’60s rock, a hip-loose and almost sexual sinuousness that most revival acts and garage bands can’t even begin to replicate. The Waxwings are one of the few who can. The group’s new and third disc, Let’s Make Our Descent, shakes and shimmies like the most…

Out in the middle of nowhere, the horizon seems to drop away as the stars ascend and fill the heavens with a cold, blue, almost baptizing light. Grab your telescopes and get ready to hold your breath, because you’ll feel the same sense of awe hearing Bear Vs. Larger Bear…

Long before the members of !!! had even gotten their periods, Tim Kerr, of the legendary punk outfit the Big Boys, was flirting with funk and R&B. Now, after doing time in a steady progression of kick-ass bands across almost three decades, the guitarist has hit upon the quintessential clusterfuck…

When James Sharp moved to Los Angeles last year, Denver lost one of its most creative, colorful and ahead-of-the-curve DJs. Operating for the previous eight years under the alias DJ Quid, Sharp co-founded two Snake Pit residencies, Quid and Shaggy Robot, that introduced new genres such as Brit pop and…

With artwork that bears a vague resemblance to the cover of the Eagles’ One of These Nights, Ghost Buffalo’s six-song debut looks like it might be a throwback to 1970s West Coast country rock. And it is, sort of: Singer/guitarist Marie Litton sounds linked in psychic and sonic empathy with…

The Fiery Furnaces’ Who fixation was hard enough to swallow last year, when the brother/sister duo cited Pete Townshend as an influence on its hotly hyped debut, Gallowsbird’s Bark. Unfortunately, Blueberry Boat drifts even deeper into the desultory waters of rock-opera entropy. Coming across as cute attempts at avant-garde wackiness,…

Revisionist history has painted the original psychedelic era as something sunny, paisley-printed and oozing with love. But really, a lot of the music of the late ’60s bent minds toward the darker realms of cosmic consciousness: confusion, phobia, neurosis and, fuck, even Satan. The members of Comets on Fire –…

You’d think most bands, attention-starved as they are, would jump at the chance to get interviewed by the local paper. But when just such an offer is put to Pariah Caste guitarist Chuck Coffey, the only thing jumping up is his eyebrow. “Why do you want to write an article…