Spring has finally sprung, which means that scenesters will need to find their shades. Because not only are lots of venues offering music outdoors, but they’re doing it in the daytime. The Larimer Lounge (2721 Larimer Street) is back with its Sunday-afternoon BBQ series, lining up such acts as the…
Bruce Springsteen is a phony piece of crap. This was my firm opinion as a teenager in the early ’90s just starting to seriously get into music. And I wasn’t alone. Ask anyone of roughly the same age, and you’ll likely hear a similar sentiment: Back then, Springsteen — America’s…
I’m made out of metal now,” says 31-year-old hillbilly bluesman Scott H. Biram. “I got metal rods and plates and screws all in me. I always go through the rigmarole at the airport. I tell ’em I’m bionic. In fact, a paper in Lafayette called me ‘the bionic redneck.'” Headed…
John Doe had better watch his back. He’s become public enemy number two, second only to Osama. Last week, the Recording Industry Association of America further clogged the already overburdened justice system by filing another 725 lawsuits against J-to-the-Dizzo, that nefarious and elusive digital gangsta. By God, if the RIAA…
Over the years, the thing that’s kept the Deftones from being cast as an also-ran in the nu-metal franchise has been Chino Moreno’s subversive sensibilities. The vocalist’s affinity for all things Smiths (Robert, and the outfit led by Morrissey), which is unmistakable in his breathy delivery, has helped the band…
Spoon has always been the best approximation of a Motown indie glam outfit, with songs sprung on hand claps and hooks tucked into every piano riff and acoustic strum. Coupled with the warm nasal scuff of Britt Daniel’s groove-riding turns of phrase, Spoon dishes out literate white-boy soul wrapped in…
Doseone is no stranger to collating his muted, twisted emceeing with post-rock abstraction. Besides sharing guest-larynx duties with Sam Prekop of The Sea and Cake on Prefuse 73’s Vocal Studies and Uprock Narratives, he participated in a transatlantic collaboration in 2001 that resulted in Hood’s ambient-glitch masterpiece, Cold House. Last…
If, at any point since 1996, you’ve heard a generic quasi-rock song on Hot AC radio but were unable to figure out who was performing it, the act in question was probably Matchbox Twenty. The band has built its career on tunes such as “Push” –tracks that are unobjectionable, but…
Since their inception, the Raveonettes have dwelled comfortably within walls of sound. On their previous full-length, Whip It On, those walls were more monolithic than ethereal, more Kevin Shields than Phil Spector. Not so with Pretty in Black. Shorn of distortion and density, the disc’s thirteen tracks glint with a…
Lawmakers should spend less time worrying about men wedding other men and more time disrupting the noisy, unholy marriage of metal and rap. Drums of Death is the latest proposed union in this rocky, decades-old courtship. It succeeds better than most, thanks to the bludgeoning drums of former Slayer drummer…
John Cacianti, otherwise known as John Nathan, sounds like a lonely soul. And not just because his album is titled Party of One, but because almost every song on it traffics in the kind of sad-sack, introspective Americana that George Jones popularized decades ago. Nathan, of course, is no Jones;…
The latest from the Funeral is a good news/bad news/good news situation. The good news is that the trio, which sprang from the corpse of a Texas combo called Belu, exhibits excellent taste in outside material by covering Gang of Four’s “Damaged Goods.” The bad news is that the new…
In Lubbock, Texas, there’s an expression: “Anywhere is walking distance if you have time.” Given the never-ending flatness and unblocked sky that dominates the western stretch of the Lone Star State, it seems better to forgo walking altogether and just drive — double-clutching like a bat out of hell. Then…
Rasputina’s Melora Creager doesn’t refer to her band’s live performances as concerts; she calls them recitals. Which is apt, considering the setup: two cellos, vocals and drums. Resembling some eldritch chamber ensemble, Creager, fellow cellist Zoe Keating and timekeeper Jonathan TeBeest gussy themselves up like Victorian libertines and ply a…
Yeah, yeah, it’s another up-from-the-underground rock band that’s set its Stargate for 1980. This time, though, the style emulated by the time-traveling combo — a quintet from Brooklyn led by Anthony Roman — is the sort of post-punk that mated dance beats with leftist agitprop. Stealing of a Nation, the…
Hitting the British pop scene in the late ’80s just as the Smiths were imploding, David Gedge’s band, The Wedding Present, seemed poised to pick up where Morrissey and company left off. But aside from a penchant for chiming chords and glutinously crooned melancholy, Gedge didn’t share that much with…
Mars Loves Venus, the latest disc by the Brunettes, sounds as American as the Apples in Stereo. The disc’s shiny/happy melodies will strike a familiar (and simple) chord with anyone who’s spent time guzzling domestic indie pop, and the charmingly amateurish vocals by the dark-tressed duo of Heather Mansfield and…
Here’s how much times have changed in the past decade and a half. At the dawn of the ’90s, a Bush was in the White House, and old farts who wanted to pretend that they dug contemporary music would name-drop Lenny Kravitz. Today, in less-than-jarring contrast, a Bush is in…
Denver sometimes has severe amnesia when it comes to local music. Around the turn of the millennium, Acrobat Down was as hotly tipped and downright exciting as Colorado-grown outfits get. But since dissolving in 2001, its members have hovered relatively under the radar: Singer/guitarist Aaron Hobbs just recently assembled a…
At the turn of the century, trance music enjoyed an unchallenged reign in the nation’s clubs — not to mention every tricked-out Acura in LoDo. Thanks to Kimball Collins, there was simply no escaping it. Collins launched his DJ career in 1987, just as rave culture began to sprout roots…
Late last year, artist Michelle Barnes decided it was time to end Exhibition Tuesday, a marriage of high art and bar culture that she’d brought to the Funky Buddha (776 Lincoln Street) one night a week for three years. Nearly 300 painters, designers and illustrators, most of them local, had…
“Sally Field,” a song from the Edie Sedgwick disc Her Love Is Real…But She Is Not, pays tribute to the you-like-me actress’s Oscar-winning performance as a union activist in the 1979 film Norma Rae. Yet Field’s depiction of a woman suffering from multiple-personality disorder in the 1976 telepic Sybil would…
