Echoes are cool. You know, the way they lap against your skull like waves, slapping faster and faster until they start to run into each other, clipping their edges off and ultimately collapsing into a clunky, recursive stutter. Rock-and-roll history is full of them; in fact, the progression of ’60s…
Ever wonder what would have happened if Fugazi had retroactively developed fetal alcohol syndrome and became addicted to wearing rattlesnake codpieces and huffing gold-glitter spray paint out of plastic Safeway bags on the corner of Park Avenue and California? Well, wonder no more. Eaglemaniac, the second full-length release by Black…
Out of the Darkness is one of a kind — an acoustic-folk concept album about the power-grid failure in the Northeast last year. (Why on earth a group from Fort Collins would feel compelled to tackle such a topic is a bigger mystery than the blackout itself.) In the end,…
Like the pre-Melo Nuggets, the Colorado Rockies are having a tough time putting asses in the seats these days. I mean, you can’t give those tickets away. You know it’s bad when folks would rather kick it in their cubicle farms, Joe Versus the Volcano style, than spend an afternoon…
Though the lineup has changed numerous times since the Dirty Rotten Imbeciles — named for an epithet hurled by one of the members’ fathers during an early rehearsal — formed in Houston more than two decades ago, the band’s creative core, vocalist Kurt Brecht and guitarist Spike Cassidy, has remained…
It’s no secret: Every Hot Topic sapling from Mootown to Motown knows emo’s been dead for years. What once was deemed so profound and, er, poetic is no more. Promise Ring: food for worms. Ditto Texas Is the Reason, Mineral, Christie Front Drive, Sunny Day Real Estate and every other…
Once there was this little group from suburban Illinois that somehow hit upon a brave new sound. It was an amalgam of the edgy, aggressive rock that came before and the vulnerable, melodic pop that had grown up alongside it. In accordance with this dichotomy, the four bandmembers were a…
Country-music purists often gripe about the watering-down of the genre — and Tim McGraw is as good a symbol as anyone of why it’s happened. McGraw is a good-lookin’ guy hitched to a good-lookin’ gal, Faith Hill, and he’s got an interesting backstory, too, since he was neglected by his…
James Cagney and Sham 69 might seem like oil and water, but both the venerated actor and the legendary punk group have worked on projects called “Angels With Dirty Faces.” Add Manda and the Marbles (above), whose new album is so titled, to that list — just don’t expect any…
Put another dime in the jukebox, baby: Joan Jett’s coming to LoDo. First Vixen of rock and roll Jett (aka Joan Larkin) and her all-girl band of Runaways were around long before today’s so-called grrrrls ever had a period to moan about. Spiked, edgy, yet undeniably feminine, Jett owns the…
After seven grueling years of personnel changes that took the band from a modest trio to a sprawling octet, Askimbo (which takes its name from a nonsense word coined by former guitarist Geoff Orwiler) finally stopped wandering the wilderness and settled on four permanent members: brothers David and John Simpkins,…
If drum-and-bass were the Mafia, then Scott Bourne, better known as Red One, would be the underboss of one of the most notorious families at large. Red runs the day-to-day operations of Ram Records along with Ram affiliates Liftin Spirits, Frequency and Ratio. Ram is one of the best and…
The Aztlan Theater, at 974 Santa Fe Drive, has held a soft spot in my heart ever since it introduced me to some of the amazing music available in the city I’d moved to (specifically, Moore and Love .45’s original incarnation, known as Undertow back then). But every time I’ve…
I have to let the world know that if it wasn’t for D12, there wouldn’t be a Slim Shady,” says Swift of his infamous D12 cohort, Eminem. “The name ‘Slim Shady’ stems from the creation of D12, and that’s what he introduced to the world in ‘Hi, My Name Is…’…
As a kid, Edward Ka-Spel endured his share of creepy bedtime stories — along with horrible nightmares that hounded him until the age of ten. “They were there, yeah,” the fey frontman for the Legendary Pink Dots recalls with a laugh. “But I’m also English, so just a simple nursery…
Erick Sermon earned gold plaques with every EPMD album in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Since going solo in 1994, however, he has yet to see any shiny stuff. Although he’s enjoyed a few modest hits in the past five years — most notably, 2001’s “Music” and 2002’s “React”…
It’s not surprising that Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy recently completed rehab for painkiller addiction; the man who summoned A Ghost Is Born is clearly haunted. After ambitious stabs at a history-of-rock concept album and a summery pop record culminated in 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot — a post-9/11 rumination on the…
Satisfaction doesn’t become Ms. Harvey. Her last CD, 2000’s Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, was her most upbeat, but while critics gushed over it, many fans missed the rabid qualities that marked her best work. This time around, the nastiness is back, and thank goodness — although…
One of Christianity’s virtues is misericordia: mercy of the heart, a sense of pious compassion for your fellow human being. Seeing as how Pedro the Lion’s (due at the Bluebird Theater on Tuesday, July 6) David Bazan is a self-confessed Christian, it’s a sin that he doesn’t take more pity…
Are you sitting down for this? The members of Matson Jones are. Or at least three-quarters of them are: Unlike the typical rock lineup of leg-kicking pose-strikers or pigeon-toed emo wusses, they’ve got their asses planted in chairs. That’s because both of Matson Jones’s singers — Martina Grbac and Anna…
Usually when musicians name their band after a song, said number is the best they’ve got at the time, or damned close: “Black Sabbath,” co-written by Ozzy Osbourne, is a good example. Singer-songwriter John Nichols must feel likewise about “You Are the Birthday Girl,” since he made it the title…
It’s Saturday night, and the tenth annual Westword Music Showcase has just come to a close. I’m sitting on a ledge at Ninth Avenue and Lincoln Street, downing Gatorade and thumbing through my notebook. An old Journey song keeps running through my mind. “Why Can’t This Night Go On Forever?”…
