Mercy, Planes Mistaken for Stars’ sixth release in as many years and its debut on the Abacus imprint, is every bit as caustic and brooding as anything the act has ever done — only more primal, focused and terrifyingly intense. Thanks to the stripped-down production of Matt Bayles, the serrated…
Audioslave, Revelations (Epic/Interscope). Three albums on, Audioslave is a tighter and more cohesive unit, but one that produces only pedestrian power rock. Guitar wizard Tom Morello barely cuts loose, but those moments showcase Audioslave’s still-untapped potential. Though a few creative songs are mixed with solid reminders of singer Chris Cornell’s…
In the mid-’90s, it seemed like there were armies of woman-fronted, shoegaze-inflected outfits conquering the pop charts. The Sundays, the Cranberries and the forgettable Frente! all spiked the fuzzy dreaminess of My Bloody Valentine and the Cocteau Twins with pop hooks that made them irresistible to an audience burned out…
When the dance-punk wave hit a few years back, synthesizer-heavy acts like Adult. were suddenly swimming in the same waters as guitar-based bands like the Rapture and Death From Above 1979. It was easy for trendy DJs to follow up “House of Jealous Lovers” with a quirky Adult. electro-laden number…
The Killers’ new album, Sam’s Town, features a host of guitars that sound like Nissan Sentra engines and a desperately confused drummer caught between John Bonham bonzai bluster and Meg White’s dumbstruck austerity. But the thing we’re gonna focus on with regard to the record unfortunately not called Sam’s Ass…
Several rising scions of outlaw country singers are at least as rebellious as their famous fathers. Neither Hank Williams III nor Shooter Jennings fits the traditional Nashville mold, and Bobby Bare Jr. is even more willing to leave tradition in the dust. On charmingly twisted discs such as 2002’s Young…
Beards are now! Thrift-store blazers are now! Manchester United warm-up jackets are now! But most of all, Thunderbirds Are Now! Purveying that intoxicating amalgam of punk-rock brat-itude and dance-friendly dervish drums that made sensations of like-minded spaz rockers Hot Hot Heat and We Are Scientists, the quivering Detroit quartet seem…
Darkest Hour’s MySpace headline is a life mantra: “Live to thrash/Thrash to live.” The band hails from the nation’s capital and has been brutally thrashing death-metal anthems into hardcore punk fervor for the past decade. Its double-bass pedal insanity antagonized by complicated tech-guitar work has pretty much become the model…
Ms. Molina’s background is as singular as her music. She’s from Buenos Aires, and made her name in Argentina as the host of Juana y Sus Hermanas (Juana and Her Sisters), a sketch-comedy television show. But instead of devoting her life to laughs, she chose to chuck her previous persona…
Despite the worldwide rise in reggae’s popularity — including the recent mega-success of Matisyahu — it’s still reasonable to be skeptical of a reggae band composed mostly of white guys. Nonetheless, while John Brown’s Body doesn’t have roots in Jamaica (the act is from Ithaca, New York), the members’ hearts…
The field of atmospheric pop is horribly crowded at the moment. And it only gets worse every time some trendy would-be hipster kid picks up a keyboard and adds it to indie-rock instrumentation. You’d think with the glut of similarly sounding music that nothing new or interesting could emerge. But…
Friday the 13th is like the poor man’s Halloween — and luckily, it comes with the same drink-til-you-ward-off-evil-spirits traditions. But then, pretty much any excuse is a good excuse to partyeven if it’s just an outdated superstition whose relevance has been lost to tacky theme nights. Get that spooky shit…
P-Nuckle is awesome. Just ask Chris LaPlante. This summer, the frontman made a bold proclamation at the Westword Music Showcase awards ceremony that stirred the ire of a few fellow nominees. When P-Nuckle was announced as the winner in the reggae/ska category, the frontman held up the award and zealously…
A common synonym for “drummer” is “timekeeper” — but Jack DeJohnette, who’s arguably jazz’s greatest living stick man, has no use for the word. In his opinion, the term is unnecessarily limiting. “If you ask what I do with time, I do more than just keep it,” he maintains. “I…
Homicidal men in bear suits, ironic boxing-ring deaths and pets made of porcelain all play key roles in We Are Scientists videos, but there’s more to the Brooklyn-based dance-rock trio than absurdist videos, a laugh-out-loud website and ridiculous album art. On the act’s major-label debut, last year’s With Love and…
There’s more than one Zombi out there. Down in Texas, there’s a tinker-punk Zombi. Across the ocean, there’s a Finnish black-metal Zombi. And then there is Pittsburgh-based Zombi, whose endless touring has probably logged the most miles on that name. The East Coast two-piece — comprising multi-instrumentalists Steven Moore and…
At the outset of her latest disc, the other J.J. from Good Times giggles after saying “I’ve uncovered a lot in my twenty years.” Such overt attempts at post-Super Bowl titillation dominate the songs that follow. But if Jackson thinks nipple obsession will compensate for underwhelming performances, she’s missing the…
Judging by the Boss-like quivers and gravitas-filled sentiments on Sam’s Town, Killers vocalist Brandon Flowers wants desperately to be Bruce Springsteen. It’s admirable that Flowers and company want to be taken seriously as musicians and lyricists on their sophomore album, but who asked them to be our moral compass? The…
Had Ben Kweller been alive and making music during the ’70s, he would have made a killing writing theme songs for classic television shows. His best tracks feature catchy melodies that build and singsong choruses that just smack of we’re-gonna-make-it-after-all optimism. One minute you want to cry, the next you…
Since Beck Hansen first dropped “Loser,” it’s been both a pleasure and a pain to watch the eccentric musician evolve. From the album-as-fart-joke aesthetic of 1994’s Stereopathetic Soul Manure to the Berlin Bowie sheen of 1998’s Mutations and the barrio mystique of last year’s Guero, Beck has all but refused…
The Drugstore Cowboys, Chapter 3006 of Dance Moves for the Apocalypse: If the Octamaiden Was a Diabetic Joykill Addict (Lujo Records). Washington, D.C.’s Drugstore Cowboys get surprisingly tasty results by unceremoniously stuffing grindcore, industrial, indie rock and hip-hop into a filthy Cuisinart with a rusty blade. The duo’s mad-scientist electronic…
One of the things that’s held local hip-hop back over the years is the scene’s underlying insularity. Cats will only work with MCs who have the same mindset or live on the same side of town rather than experimenting with different styles or collaborating with artists outside their realm. Thankfully,…
