Sam Prekop is painting when I call at the appointed time. And, as unromantic as it sounds, he’s on deadline. In need of 15 paintings for a solo exhibition, Prekop has a definite plan: Don’t try anything revolutionary, just paint what works. “It’s a little bit weird now, working toward…
Genuine musical objectivity is tough to come by, since most listeners, try as they might, can’t help but bring biases to what they hear. Sometimes these predispositions are personal; for instance, my beloved can no longer listen to the Beach Boys’ “Help Me, Rhonda” without displeasure, because it was playing…
Joe Jackson has never competed with anyone save himself; the man leapt from genre to genre with the dexterity of Spider-Man, caring little about the critical barbs below. He jumped the jive long before desperate careerists dug up Louis Prima and Louis Jordan; he strung himself up in the orchestral…
Milwaukee and San Diego are, respectively, not that far and pretty damned far from Chicago. Yet you wouldn’t know that from the sound of the latest records by Pele and Tristeza. Both bands bank on the Windy City’s current calling card–in short, the noodly, guitar-based instrumental music a friend calls…
From the first funky track (Shakey Ground) on the new Fishbone album, Psychotic Friends Nuttwerx, theres a sneaky notion that somehow this labyrinthine-titled disc is going to pay tribute to Sly & the Family Stone (even though its a remake of an old Temptations hit). That assumption is confirmed three…
Ben Harper may be a young man, but he surely seems to be an old soul. Sure, there were light moments on his ’94 debut, Welcome to the Cruel World (chiefly the two-stepping, trash-talking “Mama’s Got a Girlfriend Now”), but it was songs such as “Like a King”–which brought the…
Since we haven’t had regular access to television in almost a year–during which time a couple of sets died tragically in the line of duty at the hands of our fourplex’s sub-Amish wiring–we’re not entirely sure what the kids are watching these days. Nothing is Must See TV any more:…
A key line on Ultimate Fakebook’s major label debut, This Will Be Laughing Week, goes like this: “I remember when the backbeat wasn’t programmed in and heroes were still human.” Sure, it’s an obvious swipe at whatever mainstream music you despise the most, but in the case of Ultimate Fakebook,…
Jad Fair is one of rock’s true oddballs. Almost childlike in his approach to music (he doesn’t know how to read music and isn’t capable of naming guitar chords), Fair was the leader of the ’80s cult band Half Japanese. With his brother David, Fair created a world of low-fi…
A few years back, when the Mighty Mighty Bosstones appeared on the KISS tribute record, Kiss My Ass, the pairing seemed so incongruous as to be slightly silly. Their cover of “Detroit Rock City” worked all right, with horns amusingly taking the place of Ace Frehley’s justifiably famous, haunting guitar…
The most remarkable thing about Elliott’s 1998 debut, U.S. Songs, was its packaging. The disc came enclosed in a grayish silver slipcase that folded open to reveal two pristine booklets with liner notes and beautiful photographs. It almost didn’t matter that the loud guitars and whiny vocals weren’t as evocative…
You can probably find Budapest One’s new album, The Crooner Rides Again, in stores. But that is not the best way to wrangle yourself a copy of the disc: If you e-mail front man Keith Killoren at budapest1@hotmail.com, he’ll more than likely appear on your doorstep with The Crooner Rides…
Someone at Epic Records’ New York offices is laughing, thinking about the two fools in Dallas who shot off their mouths only to shoot themselves in the foot. I’ll admit, it sounds stupid: Listening to 25 live albums…by the same band…in a row. And to top it off, the band…
Is Rush cool? Is Boston the new Big Star? Has Guns n’ Roses’ debut album, Appetite for Destruction, pulled ahead of the first Velvet Underground record, The Pixies’ Doolittle, and Wire’s Pink Flag as one of the most influential LPs on American indie rock? I just don’t know anymore. But…
Despite the way this will undoubtedly be marketed, there’s not as much novelty here as on 1994’s American Recordings: Johnny Cash singing a U2 song? Hell, he did that on Zooropa. Singing with Tom Petty and backed by various Heartbreakers? That’s all Unchained is. And sure, he offers his take…
MT. PLEASANT — It was getting late on that brisk Thanksgiving evening in 1950 as a new face in the expanding world of country music stood onstage in an out-of-the-way East Texas honky-tonk. An inventive promoter, eager to lure the holiday crowd, had offered patrons free turkey dinners and beer…
What does the music wrenched from the reluctant psyche of a tortured man sound like? Kid A. With more audience anticipation than the birth of a nation, Radiohead has released Kid A, the fourth album from the media-defined Most Important Band in Rock. To listen to Kid A is to…
A week from now, or a week ago, people would be staring. The suit-clad, tie-loosened 9-to-5ers bellied up to the bar at the other end of the room would give each other getaloadofthesefuckinguys smirks and elbows in the ribs. The out-of-towners looking for a little companionship and maybe a bowl…
Put a Nick Drake record on the turntable and poke a hole in one of your speakers. Grab a bottle of red wine and a pair of scissors. Forget who’s asking or answering, or even what they’re talking about, and just read. Start in the middle and end at the…
Paul Oakenfold has no band, no instrument to play, and nothing except two turntables in front of him–OK, three–but right now he is a Rock God. High above a sweaty Chicago crowd at the legendary Crobar, the clever Brit darts, weaves, and jukes between deep cuts of spacey beats with…
It’s not by accident that Centro-matic’s latest (and fifth, if you’re keeping score) begins with the sound of a typewriter hunting and pecking out a miniature backbeat, a writer finding his rhythm. South San Gabriel Songs/Music is not necessarily a concept album, but it certainly sounds like a novel set…
You should know that Sunday’s Best has ruined emo. I tell you this because they won’t. They’ll probably tell you that they’re sensitive young men who’ve had their hearts bruised by feminine wiles–a couple of times, actually–but they’ll leave out the part where they use the same bruised hearts to…
