Standing on the steppes There are words that are inherently silly simply because of the rhythm of their syllables. Limpopo is a pretty good candidate for one of them. Although familiar to most in a more equatorial setting–the name of the river in Africa where the Elephant’s Child got his…
Spot–the pop trio that blossomed from the scorched patch of earth once known as Mildred–is sneaking up on rock stardom with the philosophical ferocity of Thomas Aquinas and the childlike wonder of Opie Taylor. Or it would be if its much-ballyhooed joint deal with indie label Ardent and major Interscope…
Don’t fence me in TheitGirl Sleeper Arista Records When Sleeper’s debut album, Smart, came out last year, the band was lumped together with Elastica and Menswear under the banner of the New Wave of New Wave movement. Well, it wasn’t really a movement and–for Sleeper especially–it was a misnomer. While…
The late Andres Segovia–the artist who almost single-handedly popularized classical guitar as a concert instrument in the 20th century–had only a few favorite guitarists; Pepe Romero was one. You can hear Romero, the man the master listened to, Thursday, August 29, at the Dallas Symphony Orchestra’s opening-night gala concert at…
Two kinds of flow The Fun of Watching Fireworks American Analog Set Emperor Jones/Trance Syndicate The term “space” is rapidly approaching overexposure, as is the genre (already the suspicion grows that it’s becoming a refuge for those who can’t really play, at least not fast). It’s tempting to declare the…
The freshness test open rubberbullet Last Beat Records Welcome to the modern world, rubberbullet version: a crashing, dissonant place where things either happen so fast that they’re past before perceived or they grind along glacially, with no change discerned. Open would be a fitting soundtrack for an angry traffic jam…
Signs that Leroy Shakespeare probably didn’t grow up in Lakewood and go on to attend Woodrow Wilson High School are hanging all around his new house, just off Lower Greenville. Literally: a number of rugs, mats, and/or drapes depend from the ceiling, partitioning the rooms and lending the space an…
Since its inception, Lollapalooza has relied on clashing genres: Perry Farrell and Ice-T pairing on Sly and the Family Stone’s “Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey”; Courtney Love and Sinead O’Connor bonding over diapers backstage; or Ice Cube getting 20,000 rednecks to like him. Few stories, however, illustrate the dichotomy of…
In the United States, a country where b-boy cool has become de rigueur in white suburbia and psychedelic punks the Butthole Surfers have seen their first taste of Top 10 success come from–of all things–a rap song, lines have blurred. Call it the lollapollution of America. Since 1991, when Perry…
His own best friend Lyle Lovett is one of those rare pop figures, a star in the old ’40s sense of the word, someone who seems to have gotten his vaunted status by dint of just being different from you and me; smarter, weirder, hipper, prettier (is it merely coincidence…
Through the past, darkly 12 Golden Country Greats Ween Elektra Records Brazil’s Sepultura borrows flavors from the Indians of its home. America is way ahead of Brazil in killing aborigines, so when the merry de-/re-constructionists of Ween turn to our past, they go not with the natives, but with the…
It seems like every week a new band is the darling of the fickle British press: A look, an attitude, and a halfway decent single is enough to generate a healthy buzz from Melody Maker or New Musical Express. Bands come along with the regularity of the morning paper, each…
Over and under Moss Elixir Robyn Hitchcock Warner Brothers Genius is the main ingredient in rock eccentricity: Without it, you’re Sammy Hagar; too much, and you’re Brian Wilson. Robyn Hitchcock has always been one of rock’s great eccentrics, writing songs with a point of view that seems to float out…
Doc Watson–one of the purest and most soulful figures in country music history–has never been on commercial radio and was denied Young Country’s chance to reap teen coin. “If it had been done all over,” says Doc from his porch in Deep Gap, North Carolina, “I think ‘Freight Train Boogie’…
The woods to the glory hole birch county birch county Pilot Records When the members of birch county–formerly Wonderland–worked on an album last year with a friend producing gratis, they weren’t exactly thrilled with the results and scrapped it. This five-song EP is proof that no work is ever really…
Area bassist John Adams knows that creation can be a difficult feat–after all, he’s been a free-lance jazz musician since college–but he still stepped into a double whammy: the worldwide debut of both his first album, Jump Shot, and his son, Andrew. Andrew is doing fine at 3 1/2 weeks,…
Here comes the misery Some people spend $100 an hour to sit on a plush couch and tell a stranger their problems in an effort to sort through life’s various tragedies and traumas. Andy Cairns, singer-guitarist of Ireland’s Therapy?, prefers standing in front of a microphone, guitar in hand, to…
Medicine Bag Bag of Fear Bag Lost Records Bag–unabashed fans of acid rock working in conjunction with mainstays of the local psychedelic garage-band scene like Burnin’ Rain’s Mike Pemberton–has come up with a late-’60s template that’s been scanned, morphed, and manipulated into the ’90s. Shimmering roller-rink keyboards, portentous vocals delivering…
The other side of the pond The Return of Rico Bell Rico Bell Bloodshot The Edge of the World Mekons Quarterstick Even if you didn’t know Rico Bell from Adam, you’d be inclined to give his Return a lot of points based on its heartfelt vibe alone. Bell–founding member of…
The 1980s were a decade of excess, a hedonistic period obsessed with the high life, both figuratively and literally. Musically it was a time of overindulgence as well, full of hyperproduced albums and splendid, over-the-top concerts. Probably no other band exemplifies this decade more than “the heavy metal Beach Boys,”…
It is Midsummer Eve in Finland. The chill air is ringing with the music of Bad Religion, and I am standing on a lovely hillside some 250 miles south of the Arctic Circle, surrounded by thousands of Finnish kids in alcoholic stupors. Today–eighteen years, six months, and seven days after…
With these hands Living here, it’s easy to get a bellyful of Austin, where the water tastes like wine. But there are advantages to living just a few hours from the Live Music Capital of the World, If Not the Galaxy; the semifrequent opportunity to see singer-songwriter Alejandro Escovedo is…
