It takes some patient, ear-to-the-speaker listening before Jamie Lidell’s off-kilter, glitch-funk tendencies come to light on Multiply, but that sultry subtlety makes the album a repeat-play sleeper. Straight out of the box, Multiply bubbles with Stax/Volt soul, easy, husky, and heartfelt, Lidell’s affable vocals colored a vibrant shade of Otis…
Now that even Grandma gets Dave Chappelle’s goof on Lil Jon, crunk faces the challenge of all overexposed genres: how to stay relevant. One way, of course, is through the time-honored bid for “artistic growth.” But when it’s Atlanta’s Ying Yang Twins talking about such matters, you have to worry…
Jason Mraz’s second studio album actually makes something of its uninspired title. From his upbeat, white-boy funk to his clever coffeehouse “Wordplay” to his swooping, Broadway-style ballads, Mraz couldn’t cover more bases if his skills had been designed by a marketing committee. Of course, for those who prefer that talent…
Not a week after Beatcomber railed against the general mindlessness of local rock cockfights (a.k.a., battles of the bands), we bore witness to yet another travesty of musical justice. Osiris Rising, a Coconut Creek goth-metal four-piece, was robbed of certain victory at one more in an endless stream of shady…
Even for a death-metal band, Soilent Green was unusually hateful. In its songs, the band took gruesome pride in subjecting lustful whores to violent acts, like a Victorian slasher. The malevolence sounded genuine too: This was a documentary-gritty Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer in a genre stocked with shoddy,…
As a SoFla kid growing up in Sun Britches and striped gym socks, Beatcomber spent many prime, prepubescent summers slip ‘n’ sliding in the backyard grass and riding bikes around his still ungated neighborhood. Of course, sweltering afternoons were often most enjoyable inside, collapsed under the A/C, nosed up to…
Andrea Echeverrí, organically rocking front woman for the Colombian alternative band Aterciopelados, is milking the groove-mama experience for all it’s worth. Three years ago, the artist had her first baby, a daughter named Milagros (“Miracles”). Now she’s stepping out with a self-titled solo album dedicated to the joys of motherhood…
As the proprietress of Radio Thrift Shop on WFMU on the East Coast and an accomplished singer in her own right, Laura Cantrell is a champion of old-time country music — and she makes it sound lovelier than ever on her Matador debut, Humming by the Flowered Vine. Cantrell’s precise,…
Australian native Xavier Rudd is a musical madman; the ambidextrous multi-instrumentalist is proficient at guitar, percussion, and didgeridoo, interlacing them into a sharp, dynamic echo of today’s funky folksters. Most interesting is that he plays them simultaneously. Solace is one man’s journey into sonic solitude and an aural testament to…
On his tenth solo album, Frank Black approaches Southern roots and soul not as a philanderer but as a lover. Which stands to reason: Since 1998’s Frank Black & the Catholics, this head Pixie’s leering weakness for genre-play has gradually given way to something more heartfelt. The rich, dewy arrangements…
Two lyrical heroes of indie hip-hop team up to pay tribute to everyone’s favorite Cosby castoff, Lisa Bonet. Actually, Slug and Murs’ sweet memories of Denise Huxtable play only a minor role in the duo’s stories about the opposite sex. Felt 2 pops off with the picked guitar funk of…
Tiptoeing along with cinematic flourish and blunted swagger, Al Valient’s debut EP is smart, subtle, and shifty. A native of El Salvador, Valient is something of a nomadic producer who’s worked in Germany and Central America but currently calls Miami home. For the past couple of years, he’s been a…
It was almost 2 a.m. this past Thursday, the second of two consecutive nights to which Beatcomber volunteered its ear as a judge in the Vans Warped Tour Battle of the Bands. The last band standing after the three-week, six-night competition at Alligator Alley will ascend a stage at Pompano…
“Parts of Mississippi still suck,” says Luther Dickinson, lead singer and guitarist for the North Mississippi Allstars, “but I’ll tell you — the Hill Country is a really enlightened place. I can’t explain why, but we’ve always had wonderful experiences there. I think the music always brings people together, just…
After a decade of innovation that electrified urban music, Missy Elliott and Timbaland have mostly gone their separate ways on The Cookbook. Save for a couple of tracks, Missy made this disappointing album on her own. Of course, it’s a letdown only by comparison with her five previous, groundbreaking efforts…
Unlike the Secret Machines, the Wallflowers resist the temptation to tackle a Bob Dylan song on their new disc — but they’ll likely do so sooner rather than later. Playing that card may be the only way Jakob Dylan, Zimmy’s son, will be able to attract attention in the future,…
When Stephen Marley croons “Let me out, let me out, I’m an angry lion” during “Iron Bars,” strains of Nesta sparkle in the indifferent rage. Indifference, for the Marley family, does not imply a lack of compassion. It’s their laid-back assessment of social and spiritual topics that made reggae’s first…
When the Dropkick Murphys blasted out of south Boston nearly ten years ago, few would’ve guessed that working-class punks with progressive politics and a bagpipe fetish would ever rise from underground infamy to (relatively) mainstream success. But that’s just what this band has managed to pull off with a balls-to-the-wall…
Like his Eight76 Records label mate DJ Fyah Blaze, Fort Lauderdale crooner Chrisinti (Paul Hudson) is on a rastaman vibration, but his tracks have the right jolt of pop to get your summertime cookout started. The Kingston native’s debut, 2003’s rootsy Comfort My People, contained more spiritual and political fare,…
From the citizens of Hollywood to our esteemed City Council: Thank you for outing DJs as the minions of Satan we’ve always suspected them to be. Last week, by a vote of 5-2, you passed a measure to ban DJ music after midnight at our most nefarious dens of sin…
When PitchforkMedia.com went batshit over Annie at the end of last year, lots of run-of-the-mill music fans misunderstood — or entirely missed — the hubbub. At the time, Anniemal, the gilded Norwegian popstress’ debut, was available only as an import or illegal download, so it fell on mostly obsessive ears…
Say it with me: SOOF-yahn. Last year, you could get away with mispronouncing the symphonic-folk songwriter’s first name; his previous two records, the sprawling Greetings from Michigan and the religious, banjo-filled Seven Swans, were gorgeous works that, in spite of critical praise, never received the nationwide attention they deserved. But…
