Welcome back to another edition of The Workweek, which in turn means another edition of Hors d’Oeuvres. Just think of it like this: By the time you’re finished reading these articles,
Welcome back to another edition of The Workweek, which in turn means another edition of Hors d’Oeuvres. Just think of it like this: By the time you’re finished reading these articles,
I have no idea as to the origin of this photo, but it’s one of the funniest Photoshop jobs in both music and political history…makes for good filler. “We got
I have no idea as to the origin of this photo, but it’s one of the funniest Photoshop jobs in both music and political history…makes for good filler. “We got
Dropping into Vermont four shows into their 13 show tour, Medeski, Scofield, Martin and Wood truly gave the goods during their two set performance. They pillaged through tunes from both of the albums they’ve recorded together, 1998’s A Go Go, and the brand new, Out Louder.
Three years after the Irish singer-songwriter had us weep with 2003’s Shortlist Prize winning O, Rice has returned with another round of seductive ballads. Vocal companion Lisa Hannigan has returned to provide the essence, as Shane Fitzsimmons (bass) Vyvinne Long (cello) Tom Osander (drums) and Joel Shearer ( guitars) nail the “sparse climatic" on 9.
The mighty MTV rolled their juggernaut bandwagon into Manchester, hosting four bands with apparently “spanking new music" – The Maccabees, Fields, Forward Russia! and Wolfmother
If you were around when the moody yet danceable sounds of The Cure and New Order were popular, then Chin Up Chin Up’s This Harness Can't Ride will trigger a blast from the past.
We’re doling out an added bonus with every post that stinks of blogger autofellatio, so allow us to present your reward up front: Saturday marked the seventh anniversary of the
I learned at an early age to heed the sage advice of those two important wisdom dispensers that regularly preached “Don’t believe the hype.”
That strong warning from Chuck D and Flava Flav against getting caught in a rushing, gushing torrent of positive hysteria has often proven prophetic, but as it turns out after my virginal awakening last night at the Roseland Ballroom, My Morning Jacket is clearly the exception that proves the rule.
Jimmy James Incorporated (any Newsradio fans?) and the disgusting amount of hype surrounding the Louisville-based “post-jam” band blew through New York like Hurricane Gloria last night, and I’m not entirely sure of the last time I’ve exited a show with such a strong first impression or melted face: The caliber of their balls-to-the-wall, fuck-your-face rock from start to finish actually made my brain hurt from all the spastic headbanging I involuntarily enjoyed.
It must’ve been my morning blazer night at the Roseland as well, with more sport jackets per capita than any venue in the country. But the well-diversified crowd came to rock, and from the hot-out-of-the-gate opener to the 36-song encore, MMJ last night exhibited all the qualities that have just about every music blogger out there calling them the “best band in the country.” After that show, I can’t disagree, either because they were that damn good, or because I’m hurting so bad this morning I feel like Terri Schiavo over here…
