Rowdy, rambunctious, and oozing spit, grit and verve, Southern Culture on the Skids showcases the full frenzy of the band’s unhinged road show with this long-overdue live set. Anyone familiar with this trailer-park trio’s white-trash anthems should already know what to expect, and indeed the Skids deliver with a succession…
It is depressing that all Pink has to do to be refreshing is say, “I’m not a bimbo.” But though it would be nice if she didn’t have to prance around in a bikini (ironically or otherwise), we should be grateful for any effort a pop star makes to buck…
This could be an outtake from Parade or Sign o’ the Times, but thanks to Timbaland and countless other R&B producers, the compressed sexuality of Prince’s drum tracks never lost currency. Plus his frenetic falsetto, one that has yet to be matched, will always be a joy to hear…
They’re on Disney-owned Hollywood which explains why this earnest sugar rush is more Hilary & Haylie than Tegan & Sara, but the strength of their voices implies that these sisters were genetically designed for music before TV producers noticed their photogenic faces…
According to the liner notes, one member of this quintet handles “drone machine” duties. Good luck identifying her contributions in this plodding, molten, proto-Black Rebel Motorcycle Club sludge: flat drums; the same lurching, off-phrase riffs lumbered out ad infinitum; singer Alex Maas’s desperately urging someone to “Wake up!” like a…
Are they goth? Are they rock? Does it matter? The Sisters of Mercy have put together more than two decades of smash hits, public roustabouts, great lines, and other oddities. Okay, so they don’t have any smash hits, but try telling that to the rabid fan base the Sisters have…
Styles come and fads go, yet thankfully the funk always lurks, its spirit manifest in different forms and from unlikely tributaries. Believe it or not, New Orleans’ Johnny Sketch & the Dirty Notes hail from classical-music backgrounds. At Loyola U., goateed bandleader Johnny Sketch (a.k.a. Marc Paradis) majored in cello…
What began as a shits-‘n’-giggles-in-the-basement kind of band has grown into an unstoppable street punk/Oi! force to be reckoned with. The Dropkick Murphys even have a competitive hockey squad in the Boston area. So ten years, five full-lengths, and a bucketful of singles later, these Irish-American rovers stand atop the…
Not unlike Richard Jordan’s Sandman character in Logan’s Run, there is something sexy about Miami’s long-running New Wave/postpunk luminaries that creeps out from around the corners of well-crafted songs. Multi-instrumentalist and recording engineer Omar Cuellar has been around for God knows how long with the on-again, off-again Francis 7 project…
Queen without Freddie Mercury? Isn’t that like the Doors without Jim Morrison (the laughable Doors of the 21st Century notwithstanding)? Or INXS without Michael Hutchence, especially after the band anointed his would-be successor on a TV talent show? After all, when Paul McCartney recycles the Beatles catalogue in concert, he…
When he was a teen, Varick Smith walked home from school one day to find an ambulance and a throng of police in front of his neighbor’s house. The neighbor — a friend of Smith’s who was known to have dabbled in drugs — had been shot to death. “To…
When Black Rebel Motorcycle Club released its sophomore album, Take Them On, On Your Own, in late 2003, not even the band itself could have known how prophetic the title would prove to be. In the year that followed, the group ignited a bitter battle with its record company, Virgin…
Eighteen years is a long time for anything — or anyone — to stick around in Miami. Artists come and go; structures are built and torn down; businesses launch and then go bankrupt. But for something as awkward and funky as teenage dramanoid, the Subtropics Experimental Music and Sound Arts…
Damian Marley is carrying his father’s torch admirably. The title track on his latest album, “Welcome to Jamrock,” became the rarest of things, a politically astute urban hit that set the charts ablaze in late 2005. He recently scooped up two Grammys for his efforts, for Best Reggae Album and…
Scott Herren’s recent work has drawn criticism for sounding too similar to his early breakthrough recordings (particularly Vocal Studies + Uprock Narratives). He often uses the same melodies — a soft, melodic arpeggio of keys — on all of his recordings, a tendency that frequently appears on Security Screenings, his…
Let’s go for a simple explanation of Bebo de Cuba. It is a double album that should be distributed for free in music schools, because it works perfectly as a delicate lesson on how to play most of the music genres that have Afro-Caribbean blood, be they mambo, danzón, son,…
Teddy Thompson hails from impressive lineage; his parents, Richard and Linda Thompson, are influential alums in high standing among Britain’s folk-rock elite. However, with this sophomore set, Thompson proves there’s no need to depend on pedigree; at this point in a still-fledgling career, he carves out his own credentials. Though…
With two highly acclaimed albums to their credit, Hem bandmates take the unusual step of turning their third effort into a retrospective of sorts, with reworked versions of their early catalogue combined with a heavy infusion of outtakes, rarities, and live tracks. For most bands, this would be a premature…
In this latest episode of Dave Grohl’s Love Life, Dave begs you to make him a better person, to force him to become a better lover. He’s been trying to pass the buck for about ten years, and I doubt the problem was that he needed to slow the tempo…
The “Laffy Taffy” minimalism isn’t novel anymore (novel isn’t really Jermaine Dupri’s thing), but it still swings. And when the vocal energy rises at minute three, Dem Generic Rappaz (who aren’t D4L because they don’t yell “Bankhead”) earn the right to hang at the club for a few more months…
With the assistance of space-rockers Landing, indie superproducer/collaborative gadabout Adam Forkner’s latest nom de plume nestles and sighs in a pile of Neu!-ly fluffed down. Mildly psychedelic and divertingly mellow the way a lava lamp can be under the proper conditions — dig those fluttering rabbit-hole guitars; in-a-trance one-note keyboard…
Ben Vida is great at keeping out of his own way. Talk-singing softly in enjoined, run-on couplets more impressionistic than cerebral, he leaves plenty of space for swooping, mewling keyboard brushstrokes, hints of sloping violin, and brittle acoustic strum, all eventually usurped by a fascinatingly intricate mélange of tight, tribal…
