Born into a griot family of oral historians and master musicians, Moussa Kanoute hails from Senegal; in the small nation at the western-most tip of Africa’s smiling coast, the average annual income of five hundred U.S. dollars certainly buys more peanuts than ivory. As his grandfather’s apprentice, Kanoute learned the…

Satirical tunesmith Gregory Ego (who files his taxes under the name of Greg Daurer), laments failed love, nicotine withdrawal and the divisive nature of talk radio. But the Vermont native turned Denver resident certainly has good taste in shopping malls from the days of yore: Cinderella City, once the crown…

On his energetic second full-length, guitar-totin’ Mike Serviolo splits the difference between free jazz and ballistic heavy metal, adds a pinch of prog and brings the whole shebang to an aggressive boiling point with the finesse of a saucier. Propelled by the rhythmic thrust of bassist Bob Gumbrecht and drummer…

If Scott Aaron Wexton could turn people into zombies, he wouldn’t bother using them for mindless orgies or fire dances in praise of the High Mambo Priestess. No, siree. As a spooky, one-man lounge act from Silver Lake, California, who calls himself the Voodoo Organist, Wexton has more practical applications…

Arguably the first person on the planet to play prepared guitar and dobro in a compositional sense, Janet Feder manipulates the strings of her instruments by attaching beads, rings, bra hooks and modified alligator clips for a host of uncommon sounds. Gongs, rattles, steel drums, marimba and Oriental percussion are…

A seedy barroom staple since the mid-’80s, when he performed solo and with a band called Luke the Drifter and the Lonesome Saddle Tramps, Joe Vasquez certainly isn’t a household name in Nashville — not that he ever aspired to be one. But ’round these here parts, the man with…

In far tougher economic times than these, American homesteaders often burned their houses to the ground just to retrieve the nails — then moved somewhere new with the hopes of rebuilding. Catherine Irwin, co-leader of the Kentucky-bred roots outfit Freakwater, borrows this idea of hardscrabble existence as a metaphor for…

Jonathan Bates’s claim that his major-label debut was “lovingly recorded in a bedroom” is slightly misleading: With his solo career in a fledgling state, Bates caught the attention of Tony Berg, an A&R executive who signed both Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Beck. Soon after, the magic of studio-enhanced remastering…

I like to find a way to pull the audience into the creative process, whether they want to go or not,” says Dr. Gregory T.S. Walker, chuckling slyly. A six-and-a-half-foot-tall violinist/composer who won’t hesitate to drench folks in the orchestra seats with a water cannon in order to include them…

All journalists and critics are ants at the picnic,” Henry Rollins declares from the offices of his vanity publishing company, 2.13.61, in Los Angeles. “I’m not curious to see what you write about me. Not curious about any review about anything I do. I don’t care. And I defy you…

For an evening of intimate chamber jazz, Ron Miles (pictured) and Bill Frisell join forces as a trumpet/guitar duo on Friday, January 3, at the Old Main Chapel at the University of Colorado — Boulder. Part of the ongoing Coalition for Creative Music series, this pairing of gentle souls promises…

At one time, people tuned in to see whether Evel Knievel would clear the fountains at Caesar’s Palace on a speeding motorcycle or shatter every bone in his body trying. And even though it was much more compelling to imagine Knievel bouncing along the pavement like a lifeless rag doll…

Since pointy-headed son of Dixie Trent Lott was forced to turn in his bullwhip last week (reduced to a lowly Senator in a Grand Dragon costume), the Mississippi tourism board might consider letting their prize goofball moonlight as a spokesperson for the state’s regional delicacy: largemouth bass. The Magnolia State…

Vincent Gallo once described himself as the kind of guy who’d attend a football game in a visiting uniform and cheer until he got killed. Divisive as a portcullis with the stare of Rasputin, the Buffalo-bred director/actor /composer has certainly garnered his fair share of praise and scorn over the…

Love reigned supreme during Samsonite and Delight-Ya’s recent tour through the cold corridors of Oregon State Hospital, the stark and unpredictable location where Milos Forman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was filmed in 1975. Rather than butt heads in mortal combat, the large inflatable Godzillas that accompanied the duo…

Following the murder of his uncle in the early ’50s, young Otis Taylor accompanied his shattered parents as they uprooted themselves from Chicago and moved to Denver — the once and future bluesman’s adopted home for the last five decades. But that single childhood atrocity wasn’t the first act of…

At Bob’s Bad Vapors in Memphis, arguably the birthplace of karaoke, you can see a different Elvis impersonator every twenty minutes — if you’re an absolute masochist, that is. Seemingly rolled off some glitzy assembly line in Dante’s Inferno, sneering exhibitionists from all walks of life converge year round upon…

Hurtling at the speed of thought, the Czars are making introspective proclamations these days. The title to their latest four-song EP, X Would Rather Listen to Y Than Suffer Through a C of Z’s, sounds like the title to a Wallace Stevens poem about bank executives dozing on the job…

Active since 1982 in the underground home tapers scene, Little Fyodor has helped create and circulate countless cassettes of varying oddness over the years — mostly at a time when publications like Factsheet 5 gave a rat’s ass about willfully unmarketable forms of musical expression. Packed to the gills with…

“Have you ever been alone after the party under the blue light?/Wondering where it all went?/Your youth, patience, sanity?” So begin the conversational lyrics to a slow, bombastic ditty called “Chasing the Dragon” — one of the more reflective moments on an otherwise loud and rabid batch of punk tunes…

After falling some thirty feet off a windmill and landing on his head, Maraca Five-O rhythm guitarist Matt Stemwedel sustained a serious brain injury, which kept him comatose for three days last June. Following months of extensive physical therapy, the local surf rocker is slowly re-emerging as his old, wily…

The last thing that you expect to hear on a Mudhoney song is a lone saxophone staggering through the psychedelic mist of hippie-dippy organs, twittering electronica and slow-burn guitar rumble. Yet thar she blows in meandering amplitude on “Baby, Can You Dig the Light?” the extended opening salvo of the…