As the major-label feeding frenzy continues over bands that flaunt more hair dye than a local PTA chapter, more and more groups that should have experienced their growing pains on the indie circuit are finding themselves launched into the big leagues at Warped Tour velocity. Count Letter Kills among the…
The thumbprint of At the Drive-In will doubtless be leaving impressions on post-hardcore forever — but few pretenders to that throne possess as much energy, honesty and soul as Irradio. The San Diego quintet came together six years ago and has since released two albums, 2002’s Semantic Noise and last…
The only ones likely to file Hawthorne Heights under “must-hear” are those stressing over their SAT scores and potential prom dates. Even so, the Dayton, Ohio-based act is turning heads in the corporate world — well, at least in the head offices of its label, Victory Records. The group’s debut…
At a relatively young 37, Tab Benoit makes a strong case that white men can jump — or at least bend a blue note with conviction. On his latest effort, Fever for the Bayou, Benoit, who hails from the Louisiana delta, shakes, rattles and rolls through a tasty blend of…
Defending Ashlee Simpson is a full-time job these days. Tell the average person that 2004’s Autobiography, her debut album, is the Nevermind of the girlie-pop genre — which is faint praise, comparatively speaking, but praise, nonetheless — and you’ll wind up with an earful about lip-synching, acid reflux and her…
Puppet heads, robot dancing, electro-punk and jazz improv? Add some cheap liquor, and you’ve got a recipe for one kick-ass migraine. This Wednesday, the cranial constriction will be applied by Les Georges Leningrad, a vibrantly surreal trio from Montreal infamous for its lurid, theatrical live shows and berserk flagellation of…
In the world of superheroes, Havok is a short-tempered X-Factor mutant with the ability to fire waves of explosive energy from his fingertips. In Denver’s own underground death-core realm, the band Havok does something similar with guitars and amps, grinding through sheets of metal and double-kick tempos like a buzz…
Helmut Geier, aka DJ Hell, is the David Bowie of electronic music — always on the cutting edge, and an icon to those who’ve followed in his wake. From his entry into the early-’90s German techno scene through the current disco-punk fad, Hell (due at Vinyl on Saturday, February 26)…
The parties taking place this week in conjunction with the NBA All-Star Game promise to be epic — and while he’s hardly the biggest name heading to town, DJ Clinton Sparks is the glue that’ll hold three of the most widely anticipated bashes together. But spinning for celebrities as high-profile…
We’re just a wandering band of comedians.” You might expect such a statement from the stooges in Barenaked Ladies or, at the very least, Ween. But coming from Matt Pike, singer/guitarist of Oakland’s High on Fire, the confession sounds seriously hilarious. After all, the trio — Pike, drummer Des Kensel…
A little after five on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Cassidy Bednark, aka DJ Bedz, is holed up in the Coors Light booth high in the rafters of the Pepsi Center. Tipoff is still two hours away, but Bedz, the official DJ of the Denver Nuggets, already has his game face…
There are headphone albums — and then there are albums that can only properly be heard through the telecom inside the helmet of a spacesuit. Feathers, Dead Meadow’s fourth studio full-length, is exactly the latter. The problem is, you shouldn’t have to be shuttled into orbit for a psychedelic record…
London’s Maya “M.I.A.” Arulpragasam has received one of the most dubious honors in hip-hop: A two-page piece about her recently appeared in the New Yorker, which is to cutting-edge rap coverage what Condoleezza Rice is to party girls. That’s no reason to dismiss her new disc, though. Arular won’t tempt…
It’s hard to shrug off the genius of Neil Diamond. In fact, he only truly sucks when he’s being channeled through someone else — especially someone once famed for having such a distinct and idiosyncratic voice. Yeah, we’re looking at you, Eric Bachmann. Since the ex-Archers of Loaf songwriter formed…
The beauty of James Murphy’s early LCD Soundsystem singles like “Losing My Edge” was the way they simultaneously awarded him hipster credentials and mocked the indier-than-thou attitude that came with such a rarefied reputation. This knowing irony of being an outsider tapped for inner-sanctum inclusion permeates the first song on…
If Outkast’s Andre 3000 made it safe for hardened hip-hop heads to embrace their inner (and sexually ambiguous) Prince, will Canadian import Buck 65 open the floodgates for cowboy hats and Hank Williams cassettes? Hip-hop may run through his veins and into his rhythm section, but Buck’s clanky acoustics and…
Naming his band’s live album Nobody’s Watching Nobody’s Listening sums up the wry humor of Joe Pernice, who remains forever genial about the Pernice Brothers’ freedom from big-label maneuvering and mainstream concessions. Still, this live document of a 2004 Mercury Lounge show in NYC demonstrates that members of the Boston…
Why is a CD-release party taking place for an album that originally came out in 2003? Because Inspiration, which is being celebrated by Denver-based clarinetist Payne during a Thursday, February 17, show at Dazzle, is hitting stores in the States over a year after it reached Brazil, where it was…
You can just picture it: Four children of the ’70s kicking it in the basement, inadvertently huffing poorly capped bottles of paint thinner and plowing through wobbly renditions of all their classic-rock favorites. Then punk comes along and, instead of giving them tunnel vision, actually opens their eyes. After five…
Nashville, believe it or not, is still capable of pumping out the kind of primal American essence it was originally known for. Case in point: Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers, who will wheel their cranium-cracking sideshow to the Larimer with the Trailer Park Playboys and the Skulls. Drawing from, but not…
In an age in which the concept of women fronting punk bands is still (frustratingly) a cute novelty, Tsunami Bomb defiantly transcends gender and style. Blame this on the swift evolution of the Bay Area quartet, over the course of two albums and a smattering of EPs, from a Gwen-Stefani-fronting-the-Misfits…
Thirteen years ago, Bettie Serveert released Palomine, a record whose jangly guitars, infectious melodies and bittersweet lyrics helped define the sound of ’90s college rock. After a string of disappointing releases that never quite recaptured the verve of that debut, this year’s Attagirl is a refreshing change. But don’t call…
