When people talk about “old school” sounds, they’re likely referring to styles indigenous to the mid-1970s or early ’80s (and maybe even the ’90s; writer Harlan Ellison lamented that today’s youth have no sense of history: “They’re nostalgic for what they had for breakfast.”). But singer Ricky Fanté is so…
There seems no respite from New York’s relentless insistence on musical relevance. Yes, we’re aware of this dance-punk, post-funk, electro-crash thing you do so well, over and over again. Still, bands like the Fever try to add some inspired swagger to the overdone sashay. You might’ve heard the catchy-as-hell club…
Sometimes to move forward, you have to step back. Shying away from the cracked, free-form jams of 2002’s Phrenology, the Roots return to the more traditional boom-bap-cum-Native Tongues aesthetic of their previous work on The Tipping Point. Tracks such as “Stay Cool” and “Boom,” carry the torch from Phrenology, but…
In the mid- to late ’90s, Armand Van Helden was the name in American progressive trance and house, penning hits such as “U Don’t Know Me” and “Witch Doktor” while remixing tracks by everyone from Puff Daddy to the Rolling Stones. His two post-millennial LPs met with tepid critical press…
The juxtaposition of cowboy and hippie imagery on the cover of the Atomic Cowboys¹ Wake Up! CD is indicative of the band¹s socially conscious mix of country and alternative rock. These guys aren¹t some fly-the-flag-or-yer-a-sissy hicks, nor are they sloganeering causeheads. They¹re Atomic Cowboys, damn it! It¹s no fluke that…
It’s not easy being a Kiss fan, even a reformed one. I haven’t been able to stomach the self-proclaimed “hottest band in the world” for years. I still cringe every time it hawks another overpriced trinket or embarks on its annual farewell tour. It’s almost too tough to bear. You…
In 1995, Timothy McVeigh blew up the Oklahoma City federal building; thousands were being slaughtered in Bosnia and Rwanda; O.J. Simpson was acquitted of double murder; Forrest Gump beat out Pulp Fiction for the Best Picture Oscar; and Mickey Mantle died. But there was a tiny bright spot amid all…
The ice-capped regions of Scandinavia have experienced a major rock renaissance in the past decade with the Hellacopters, Hives, Soundtrack of Our Lives, and countless other bands who adhere to the rock-as-salvation formula. Sahara Hotnights represent the female division of this insurgence, and their first album, Jennie Bomb, was compared…
You come to realize many things while waiting in line for the bathroom at a big summer rock festival: You forgot to balance your checkbook. You need cat food. Maybe it was just a rash. But it’s not the most pleasant place to realize you just got ripped off. I…
Melissa Auf der Maur is a woman of duality. The lithe, flame-haired bassist can stretch her voice from a velvety whisper to a demonic metal growl. Her debut solo album, Auf der Maur, overflows with sonic sludge and sugar-coated hallucinations. She spent a majority of the ’90s playing bass in…
At Jaxson’s Ice Cream Parlor in Dania Beach, sunburned kids sit with cones that drip thick, creamy goo between their fingers, and moms and dads scarf down hot dogs. Waiters serve diners kitchen sinks filled with ice cream and topped with sparklers. A siren goes off when they’re delivered to…
Frank Mendez, a.k.a. Mr. Mendez, was named one of URB Magazine’s 12 DJs to look for in 2000. He is revered for helping to blow up the drum and bass scene and is known across the dance circuit for his classic, energetic, party-smashing anthem “Anasthasia.” Though he moved away two…
Back when neosoul still possessed its end-of-the-millennium novelty, a new artist could show up with a Fender Rhodes and a few warm bodies and win nearly instantaneous praise. In the nostalgic ’90s, everyone from D’Angelo to Maxwell to Macy Gray got a pass from plenty of writers, this one included,…
Touring in support of its first album, The Beginning Stages of… , the Polyphonic Spree seemed likely to fall into a novelty-act trap, what with all the people up onstage with their flowing white robes and sweeping Technicolor dreamsongs. If the Polyphonic Spree wasn’t a cult, then the band at…
This Kid is more than alright; he’s in robust health. Even his archival detritus packs more excitement than most artists’ slaved-over magnum opuses. Oakland PowerBook gadfly and Tigerbeat6 honcho Kid 606 (Miguel Depedro) hasn’t met a style he can’t warp to his own impish designs, with no qualms about copyright…
Plenty of scribes have unloaded on The Printz, and it’s easy to see why. This compilation of two EPs is often a mess, with Aussie provocateur Chris Colonna and one-named helpers such as Pia and Surya gleefully engaging in unnatural acts of rock, hip-hop, and plenty more, without the slightest…
How’d you like to get beat up? It’s easy. Just put the Junior Boys’ synthtronic debut on at a party before 3 a.m. If you don’t get smacked down, you’ll certainly get called a sissybuttpumper (not that there’s anything wrong with being that). Why the strong reaction? Because Last Exit…
Reynaldo prefers champagne and strawberries in bed, and he likes to take bubble baths rather than showers. He likes to be on top, and he admits that in bed, he is free and sometimes freaky. His favorite magazine is Playboy, and his favorite movie is Selena.” Too much information? Not…
In a culture bombarded by information, Múm offers plenty to attract your overtaxed attention: It’s from Iceland! It records albums in remote lighthouses! Until recently, it included a pair of twin sisters whose singing voices resemble those of 6-year-old tree nymphs! Yet play one of Múm’s records in your bedroom…
Though he deserves many of the accolades that come with being a world-renowned DJ, Sasha hasn’t reveled in the glory lately. Having achieved just moderate success with 2002’s uneven Airdrawndagger, Sasha couldn’t garner the same level of respect for his full-length labor of love than he does for an eight-hour…
Attention, all candy-ass punks and faux-metal fuckwits contemplating a career in music: GIVE UP NOW. You will never in a bazillion years touch Motörhead mainstay Lemmy. He’s old enough to have bent your hippie mom over an amp in the back of a tour bus when he was a Hendrix…
Uh-oh. TVT’s collection of Southern thug rappers is pretty much — to borrow a phrase from actress Lindsay Lohan — completely retarded. The Dirty South’s incarnation of gangsta rap doesn’t hold a candle to the West Coast’s industry-shaking forebears like ‘Pac and Eazy. Lil’ Jon and the Eastside Boyz, Atlanta’s…
