It seems like forever ago that R.E.M emerged from Athens, Georgia, looking like art-school students who drove pickups to class (except for Michael Stipe, who probably rode his bike). What has it been now–17 years since the first single? How time flies when you’re having no fun at all. That…
Hard as a rock 1965 Afghan Whigs Columbia Greg Dulli would like to think he’s the blackest cracker around; the only thing he loves more than his magic johnson is his soul-music record collection, which he hauls out every now and then when he wants to rearrange the words to…
Two years ago, Blake Schwarzenbach wasn’t being interviewed by writers. He was one, paying the bills by contributing reviews to PC gaming magazines such as GameSpot and writing for a couple of travel guides. After six years as the frontman for Jawbreaker–six years of constant touring and incessant bickering–he had…
He is the walking dead, a corpse who roams the earth long after his time ran out. He has died twice now: first, when the world discovered he was a fraud and a liar and abandoned him to making films with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the second time, when…
Dust, brutha You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby Fatboy Slim Astralwerks/Caroline Norman Cook’s pure-pop pleasures do not last beyond…quick, now. You can listen to his music–a concoction of distorted samples and big-beat throwdowns–all day and all night, and still it doesn’t last beyond the moment when everything goes silent. Then…
In the booklet for his 1985 career anthology, Biograph, Bob Dylan mused on the differences between his rapturously received 1974 “comeback” tour and the contentious series of shows he had given eight years earlier. On the surface, much was similar about these two tours: In both cases, Dylan was backed…
As witch movies go–even lighthearted, supposedly comic witch movies–Practical Magic is conspicuously lacking in supernatural phenomena. Director Griffin Dunne (Addicted to Love) can’t scare up a single bedeviled infant or evil spirit living in a Ouija board; the best he can come up with is a boiling cauldron and a…
Early last week, Arnold Joseph Poovey held in his hands the compact disc that was going to rescue his name from the dustbin of rock-and-roll history. The disc, titled Greatest Grooves, summed up his career, all 40-plus years of it, in one rollicking 55-minute burst. It revealed a rockabilly kid…
Bless this mess The Nu Nation Project Kirk Franklin Gospo Centric/Interscope Kirk Franklin is preacher as pop star, a Man of God who worships the shiniest coin and the shiniest song. He has brought Jesus into the mainstream like no one since The Artist Formerly Known as a Jewish Carpenter…
Mose John Allison, Jr. That’s the way it’s written in the book Don’t call me Moss, don’t call me Moose It’s not some made-up show biz hook You can call me Mose But only if you come from down Mexico way. –“MJA Jr.,” from Gimcracks and Gewgaws, 1998 I first…
Bad Livers Industry and Thrift Sugar Hill The Gourds gogitchyershinebox Watermelon/Sire The Gourds’ Kevin Russell and the Bad Livers’ Mark Rubin and Danny Barnes used to live in the ol’ 214, used to play Deep Ellum on weekends for spare change and drink tickets…and used to dream about moving to…
For many bands, signing a major-label deal is like trying to date two girls at once: It hardly ever works, people hate you for doing it, and although the pitfalls are well-documented, it’s tempting enough to try anyway. When a Dallas band signs to a major label, it’s even more…
Hank Williams was a drunk, a mean drunk who died at 29 in the back seat of a Cadillac. He was a semiliterate plagiarist, a whoremonger, a brawler, and an egomaniac. He was a stingy manager of top-flight musicians and a notoriously unreliable employee who somehow managed to get canned…
Tupelo honey Weird Tales Golden Smog Rykodisc Wide Swing Tremolo Son Volt Warner Bros. It’s far easier to like Jeff Tweedy’s songs than those written by his old friend and partner Jay Farrar. That’s because they’re written for you, about you, to you; they come at you with open arms…
It should be the stuff that Nashville’s dampest dreams are made of: two strapping singin’ and songwritin’ brothers from a wild-west small town in Texas. Both grew up ranching in the Hill Country, working on an oil pipeline, and playing in a local band before both won sports scholarships to…
James Lavelle, the 24-year-old founder and president of England’s Mo Wax Records, has an active fantasy life, and movies are his touchstone. The promotional items for Psyence Fiction, a new CD credited to a project he’s dubbed UNKLE, include a mockup of the original poster from Star Wars (his favorite…
Intercourse without love. That’s how local KDGE-FM (94.5) disc jockey Josh Venable plans to introduce a certain band on his Sunday-night show, The Adventure Club, when he spins a song from the group’s new record, Conduct. That, or a word scramble: “It has an F, a C, a K, and…
Wet, wet, wet Is This Desire? PJ Harvey Island Records In the past, Polly Jean Harvey’s quiet moments have always stuck out like teardrops in a rainstorm. Dry and Rid of Me were one long howl–the sound a woman makes when she sets out to prove she’s tougher, angrier, hornier,…
Yesterday, Mitch Greer and Michael Cullen–guitarists in Go Metric USA–sat in Cullen’s Denton apartment and talked about wanting to save Dallas from bad rock-and-roll bands. Yesterday, they were laid-back, quiet, like members of any other young band not used to talking about their music. But today–today, that’s a whole different…
Kelly Reverb lives, quite literally, in his studio. The front room of his apartment, just off the Dallas North Tollway and Spring Valley, contains no furniture, no sign that someone actually calls the space home. It’s a dimly lit jumble of keyboards and wires, computers and vinyl, video monitors and…
Get in the Van Blarcum The Shopping Sessions Pump’n Ethyl Thrift Towne Records On Thank God I’m Livin’ in the U.S.A.!, Pump’n Ethyl’s 1996 debut, singer Turner Van Blarcum lined up the whole world against the wall and mowed ’em down one by one with three-minute blasts of chainsaw guitar…
Last year, Peter Case sat holed up in a tiny studio in Santa Monica, California, finishing work on the third Plimsouls album–the band’s first in 14 years, and one Case didn’t think you would ever hear. Clad all in black–from his faded T-shirt and leather vest to his jeans and…
