It wasn’t all that surprising when Kittie’s head-banging debut, Spit, sold more than 600,000 copies. The quartet of metal-loving barely legals from London, Ontario, invaded America during our nü-metal honeymoon, brandishing enough slaying riffs and well-placed piercings to send Matt Pinfield straight to a cold shower. The unexpected twist was…
While last year’s self-titled debut from this Richmond, Virginia, quartet received its share of Björk comparisons, the group’s sophomore offering is likely to stand on its own merits rather than its trip-hop stylings and Maura Davis’ voice, which can be as earsplitting as that of Iceland’s pint-size princess. The Instinct,…
On one hand, Drums & Tuba are just your typical rock power trio, slogging it out 200 or so dates a year on the road. There’s guitar, drums and, well, on the other hand, a tuba. And no singer. Yet it’s still rock and roll, if also a whole lot…
In the beginning, there was rhythm. Hairy hominids banging bones. Then, pokey Neanderthals touched the monolith and discovered the handclap–they grunted with glee–then konked on a coconut, thumped on a stump. “Mmmm. Good…beat. Dance…to…it.” Eventually, the bones morphed in a flash into microphones. Early rappers rhymed about meat, arrows and–some…
It was one of my best stories at parties and such, a great icebreaker, sure to get a laugh. It was May 5, 2000, and I’d just seen Elliott Smith perform at Trees. He was touring behind his fifth and latest album, that year’s Figure 8, and the show couldn’t…
As it must, the Strokes’ second LP registers as something of a disappointment. After all, Room on Fire sounds like the Strokes’ debut–and once they remade the world in their own prickly, swivel-hipped image, nothing that sounds vaguely similar to 2001’s Is This It could ever best its trashy, spiteful,…
Global dance music has taken a hell of a beating over the past year or two. Once poised alongside rap to totally eclipse a rock-music field caught in the post-grunge doldrums, all sorts of white boys with guitars are starting to drown out the acid squeaks and once-novel DJ techniques…
When a CD comes out that’s composed of artists performing versions of a music legend’s songs, usually the question is, “Who’s on it?” But a better question is, “What’s on it?” The choice of material should be even more important than the selection of artists. Most of the songs on…
By the time Ed Handley and Andy Turner split from intelligent dance music’s flagship group the Black Dog in the mid-’90s, they’d managed to throw some subversive shuffle and bleep into techno’s generic dance-floor thump. On their first two albums as Plaid, Not for Threes and Rust Proof Clockwork, Handley…
Bubba Sparxxx might not have hit it big if Eminem hadn’t done it before him, since Eminem’s mainstream legitimization of the blue-collar white person as a viable hip-hop persona certainly eased the acceptance of a portly Georgian partial to rolling around in the mud. Obie Trice definitely wouldn’t have, since…
This summer the Warped Tour featured an onstage man-to-woman ratio of approximately 876-to-2 (unless I’m wildly overestimating the female presence, a definite possibility). So the tour’s founders have hatched the Girlz Garage as a way to tip the scales back to something approaching balance, which is wise and welcome and…
Though I might conceivably covet his major-label record deal, his apple-cheeked cross-campus fan base and perhaps most of all his well-stocked backstage deli trays, I don’t envy 22-year-old Maine native Howie Day’s place in the pop-musical landscape. As only the latest in an incredibly long line of sensitive-guy singer-songwriters to…
It never ends. Teeny-bop boy bands have reigned king over everything pop since the Jackson 5’s sweet prince stole the hearts of screaming girls with his cute dimples and slight hip-slide dance moves. But the face of pop has matured: Critics say the quintessential boy-band member has morphed into an…
It’s not even 1 p.m., but things are already totally disorganized and way behind schedule on the set for “Get Low Remix,” the new video starring Atlanta’s most charismatic and aggressive rapper/screamer, Lil’ Jon. The king of crunk and his Eastside Boys are filming the clip’s “club scene” at Miami…
Here’s something to think about: Mayor Laura Miller has become the city’s mother. Or she’d like to be, at any rate. Sure, so far, her attempts to impose a 2 a.m. curfew on all clubs has met with plenty of resistance from club owners and their customers, not to mention…
One’s the “official” release, the soundtrack to a documentary in which the subject plays everything but says next to nothing; the other offers sloppy seconds performed under the pseudonym that lets a minor legend get away with murdering Hank Williams, John Prine and, gulp, Anthony Newley. Figures that the latter…
Like its more hirsute sister Southern rock, Southern rap is in the middle of an exceptionally high tide: Recent albums by Bubba Sparxxx, the Nappy Roots and OutKast have held it down for regional rustics while simultaneously meeting the form’s demand for universal themes and high-tech production exotica. Chicken-N-Beer, the…
At an age when this ol’ Cowtown boy could well have been out to pasture, Delbert McClinton has recently proven himself to be a cunning bull in his second prime. In his late-’70s first day, he embodied all that was cool about North Texas roots music–swing, swagger and soul–while cutting…
As problematic musical responses to September 11 go, I’ll take Alan Jackson’s disarmingly honest “Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)” over Lynyrd Skynyrd’s probably truth-stretching “Red White and Blue” any day of the week, since Jackson doesn’t shut the door in anybody’s face and opts for down-home sentimentality…
I’ve always considered agonized Boston alt-metallers Godsmack the poor man’s Staind: bellowed vocals, no rapping, depressive guitar chug, moody sleeve art. (I suspect the band sees itself as the poor man’s System of a Down, if the ham-handed rhythmic sophistication of current album Faceless’ 12 shades of gray is to…
Anyone who bothered to watch PBS’ recent series on the blues couldn’t help but come to the unhappy conclusion that a once-vital musical style had been strangled by its overweening fans. The series’ directors showed their devotion by preserving the old stuff in pristine curatorial amber, holding it up for…
This is what ESPN.com Page 2 columnist Bill Simmons wrote about Sunday’s Dallas Cowboys-Philadelphia Eagles skirmish: “This is the game where all those pseudo-Cowboys fans–and you know who you are–come out of the woodwork and start supporting the team again. Most Cowboys fans are like those missing fathers of NBA…
