We don’t have tattoos on our necks. We don’t write songs about feelings and stuff. And we certainly don’t scream enough. We’re probably going to get eaten alive.” Matt Armstrong, bassist for the Bloomington, Indiana, quintet Murder By Death, is scared shitless. It’s two years ago, and his band is…
Last Tuesday night, War’s “The World Is a Ghetto” poured from the jukebox as a handful of regulars bellied up to the bar at the Lion’s Lair. A little farther down Colfax, Bargain Music prepared to take the stage at the Bluebird. As far as John Q was concerned, it…
Since his debut in 1996, it’s been hard to be a fan of music — let alone hip-hop music — and not have a couple of Jay-Z choruses stuck in your head. Whether it was “Ain’t No Nigga,” “Big Pimpin” or the ingeniously sampled hook to “Hard Knock Life,” it’s…
Fun Lovin’ Criminals’ first hit, “Scooby Snacks” (from the outfit’s 1996 debut, Come Find Yourself), was easy to dismiss as imitation gangsterism too kitschy for its own good. But it’s important to note that much of the Criminals’ output has been informed by the misspent youth of frontman/guitarist Huey, who,…
Occasionally, connoisseurs of hallucinogens become convinced that they are somehow capable of actual flight. So it’s hardly surprising that Mark Farina, a man famous for his mushroom-influenced mixes, considers himself captain of his very own airline. “The communications on this record were recorded in over fifteen hours of flight time,”…
Starsailor’s 2001 debut, Love Is Here — a million-selling Brit-rock triumph described by critics and fans alike as a tender, majestic union of Van Morrison, Jeff Buckley and the Verve — was pretty much a hunk of crap. Leader James Walsh’s drab songwriting and overwrought vocals were about as stirring…
If garage rock is music that supposedly sounds like it was made in a garage, “fallout-shelter rock” might be an appropriate term to describe The Dirtbombs, who will be tearing up the Bluebird on Saturday, February 7, with the Tarmints. Led by Mick Collins, formerly of the Gories — who…
After enduring every embarrassment from the electric slide and Dollywood to Toby Keith’s persistent Arab-baiting nonsense, country music feels likes it’s in a dang ol’ coma. But before the plug is pulled on the patient and farewells are said, it only seems appropriate to celebrate the art form’s golden age…
A loose cannon known to brawl with bouncers, bandmates and even the occasional audience member, Anton Alfred Newcombe has been 86’d from his share of music venues over the years. He’s blown off sound checks to get drunk and stormed off stages after playing only two songs. He’s provoked hostile…
Perry Farrell is either the youngest 44-year-old in the pop-music game or (with apologies to Captain Beefheart) an old fart at play. On occasion, Farrell is prone to nostalgia. How else to explain his decision last year to simultaneously revive Jane’s Addiction — the group he’d officially disbanded over a…
The Recording Industry Association of America fired off another round of lawsuits last week. Utterly shocking, I know. But this time, rather than bullying a bunch of blue-hairs and soccer moms, the RIAA has made it personal — or impersonal, as the case may be. The association expanded its dragnet…
After getting a Grammy nod for its 1997 full-length debut, Fantastic Spikes Through Balloon, and rousing audiences while opening tours for everyone from the Melvins and Helmet to Morphine and Primus, Skeleton Key got lost in the shuffle by its label, Capitol, and seemed to disappear. Thankfully, the band resurfaced…
As hardcore gradually and inexorably seeps upward into rock’s mainstream, a lot of shit ends up getting filtered out. Leave acts like Thrice and Glassjaw to the sassy and fashion-whipped; we’ll keep Yuriko. This Denver quintet is as staunchly committed to maintaining its independence as it is to yanking punk…
I’ve had men that weren’t this good,” declares Erica Brown, rubbing her hands together and raising an eyebrow. She’s two forkfuls into a heaping slab of cherry cheesecake. Adorned in reading glasses and a simple T-shirt and jeans, the singer, who is so elegant on stage, looks more like a…
Special thanks to the forgotten towns and rolling hills along 101.” So states the thank-you list printed inside Whenever You’re Ready, the latest release by the longstanding California band Swell. Made up primarily of singer/guitarist David Freel and drummer Sean Kirkpatrick, the group formed in 1989; soon after, Swell was…
“How can we miss you if you won’t go away?” That question applies to a lot of people, specifically Kiss, Cher, Michael Jordan and, most recently, the Lord High Commander of the Freak Brigade, Maris the Great. Evidently, he’s back — although I didn’t know he was gone. Just a…
The Hackensaw Boys, a primitive-sounding string band with modern-day flair, are a plucky eight-man acoustic unit of colorfully named mountain-bred Virginians, including Jigsaw, Skeeter, Spacey, Tater and Pee Paw. Playing everything from fiddles, dobros and spoons to a curious percussion device called the charismo (hand-built by Salvage Hackensaw himself), the…
The anxieties and neuroses of modern living have been documented for decades by legions of psychologists and prophets, scientists and seers. Add to that list Denver’s own Navy Girls, who will play a free show on Saturday, January 22, at the Larimer Lounge with Denunzio and Pinkuu. But while most…
You may already know Orlando Terrell. Tall and bald-headed, he used to walk all over downtown Denver towing three or four of his kids in a single-file line like ducklings while balancing a huge electronic keyboard on his shoulder. Occasionally you’d see him at Wax Trax Records, parleying playfully with…
If multi-instrumentalist Matt Friedberger’s relationship with his sister, Eleanor, wasn’t strong, there’s no way the two would have teamed up to form the engagingly quixotic partnership dubbed the Fiery Furnaces. Yet they’ve had their ugly moments, the worst of them coming as a result of cohabitation. “We would play when…
It takes but a single spark to burn down an entire forest — just ask Terry Barton. Here we are, barely two weeks into the new year, and I’ll be damned if a few Cowtown musicians haven’t tossed some Queen City-sized Molotov cocktails onto the drought-stricken tinder sticks that make…
Had George Orwell lived long enough to see 1984, he might have thought bands like Spandau Ballet were a more terrifying prospect than Big Brother. Then again, Orwell hailed from the same merry olde land that introduced the world to T. Rex, Gary Glitter, Slade and Bowie’s shrill alter ego,…
