There’s only so much mileage the Changes will get out of the outraged buzz about how they were the only unsigned act at this year’s Lollapalooza, a fact that, to be realistic, bespeaks a travesty not of Iraq-invasion proportion but certainly pushing undisclosed-European-torture-chambers levels. Picture the Association — the evildoers…
When not obsessively scanning the surfaces of potato chips for holy likenesses of Phace, Cologne-based nuevo-funkers Sebastian and Henrik Wild shake down Black & Deckerized drum ‘n’ bass for every worthwhile nuance it’s got, in this case a boil-and-bubble reverse-thrust groove that keeps time the way MF Doom recites Shakespeare…
Armenian-Canadian Punjabi singer Kiran Ahluwalia leads a Bollywood charge in the forthcoming full-length from Bill Leeb and Rhys Fulber, altogether a melancholy, trance-free effort reflective of Leeb’s recent personal woes. “Indoctrination” is a sandblasted what-if of Massive-Attack-as-New-Agers, Ahluwalia’s stupefying range spotlighting the ability she demonstrated helping to soundtrack The Lord…
It’s hugely doubtful this disc will get much attention outside the cabal of indie completists who experience palpitations at the thought of Aloha, unfortunately. And even if you’re down with that, we’re talking about the group’s drummer/second-banana-singer gone solo here. Other curious passersby, however, are in for something resembling a…
Former Morlock member Jeffrey Luck Lucas parlays his Michael Madsen dead-ringerness into a Tom Waitseye view of Americana, where the proletariat sits at home all the time, bummed to the gills over the city — Memphis, let’s say, even though Lucas is from Frisco — that holds it hostage by…
Slug-slow shoegaze augmented by Black Tambourine-esque vocals fighting through mighty cobwebs of reverb. This album would like to be some sort of meditation-class fractal-soundscape study, and is being marketed as such — from the CD cover to Latenight’s press blurbs (“a visual” blah blah blah “translated into an aural” blah…
The expiration date for stupefyingly average vocals by distressingly do-able babes has to be fast approaching, but in the meantime, Deb Fogarty has teed up another Siouxsie-fronting-VNV Nation slam-dunk cut with so much Flock of Seagulls truthiness that even Robert Smith is raving about it. Fans of whip-snap drums and…
Muffled Sevendust-ish death-droning announces goth diva Tina Root’s slinky entrance. Her veil parts, the mike floats to her astonishing lips, and she channels Layne Staley’s personal Shiva, belly-dancing her way over via implicit promises to spike-heel your heart into turkeyburger. Spears hover over jugulars to the accompaniment of an orchestral…
Shaking off divorce number three, Art Alexakis has found himself bankrupt, abandoned by the original members, and on an indie label, all of which presented a splendid opportunity to swim back out past the breakers and watch the world die like the good old days. But that’s been squandered away…
Philadelphia mix pioneer King Britt has been around for a while, starting out running the decks for Grammy winners Digable Planets and more recently producing Macy Gray. His self-categorized “sexy tech” album is certainly sexy and techie enough, bringing to mind a toned-down DJ Dan or more fleshed-out Astral Matrix…
Every song on the forthcoming Fang Bang album has to adhere to this horror-glam naming scheme, see, almost as though there were a strictness to some hypothetical Alice CooperfrontsPennywise formula, not that you’d ever derive that from Wednesday’s daring daylight robbery of Taylor Rain’s — er, Marilyn Manson’s, look…
More so than last year’s Cold World Remixes, Terrorfakt’s new power-noise set is deep-fried in a Rice Krispies batter so corrosive that it should carry a warning sticker dissuading fans from using it as drive-time crankup, because the wide-wrapped panning tends to get you looking for loose bolts in death-defying…
After the first minute: Oh, some New Order B-sides. After two minutes: Oh, they let Belle and Sebastian hang out once. Four songs in: Uh, how did this just turn into a hipster disco thing without getting sucky? Eight songs in: What the ever-lovin’ … Plastic Noise Experience? One song…
If you don’t find yourself compelled to hunt down Andy Bothwell and beat his head in after the first few minutes of “Short Term Memory Loss,” his professed desire “to become the Bob Dylan of this rap shit” might seal the deal. A more thorough surfing of the tracks yields…
It’s up to the band, of course, but judging by these three scraping, thrumming advances, this would be a really tough debut album to screw up. The band’s eponymous track, for one thing, makes like a phone-patched Gwen Stefani expelling fire-enchantress lines over a Limp Bizkit-hazing of “Turn Me Loose,”…
About time that math-metal sounds were used for a little good; it was beginning to look as if the thrash-indies were going to keep releasing the stuff without ever making melody out of unlistenable morass until the entire genre became rock and roll’s answer to the holiday fruitcake. Intronaut’s shrill…
The fact that the new Particle lineup chose Beck’s “E-Pro” to strut its new vocal stuff might not be a forewarning of sweeping changes to come. (It might simply have been a handy excuse to bring in Blackalicious for quite the Hollywood cameo.) But it’s certainly a huge departure from…
Guitarist/soundtracker Michael Brook won’t be totally unfamiliar to closet addicts of the films Heat or Affliction, much less his 1992 avant-ambient full-length Cobalt Blue, which cameoed his old homes Brian Eno. With this new one, fans will find themselves in the same boat as the rest of humanity, fumbling in…
Not to be confused with the Argentine reggae undergrounders, this Swedish house duo played four venues during the 2006 Winter Music Conference in Miami, twice at Amika. The Danceband is the group’s official debut full-length after having released its past seven years’ worth of singles on last year’s Rebounces, and…
Polite but firm anti-neocon postpunk/Eighties-ness began as a powwow between early Cars and Sonic Youth before gradually revving into a not badly done AOR experiment, which leaves it up to the sage minds behind commercial radio to give it a push out of the starting gate. A one-man operation, Palumbo’s…
That’s Demolition, as in reducing things to rubble; Doll, as in a hot drummer chick on a stand-up kit; and Rods, as in kiss my double entendre. The family Doll Rod has been available to get naked and make a jolly shambles of wedding receptions, bar mitzvahs, and kiddie birthday…
Earlier this year, in a departure from its usual practice of signing Metalpalooza bait such as High on Fire and Nile, record label Relapse picked up a few instrumental-only bands, the most prized of which is semilegendary progger Don Caballero, whose members are free on waivers from Touch and Go…
