If I had a bunch of superfans crocheting armwarmers for me I could sell my half-assed b-sides just like Connor Oberst. Connor/Imaginary Successful Me: Remember that song we made when we were drunk and then that girl came over? And that one where I was learning how to make drum …
Not many albums open with a song like "Brianstorm." I'm talking Dick Dale on angel dust. I'm talking a sentient '68 Ford Mustang playing a sentient '68 Fender Mustang. Seriously, surfboards in the seventh dimension. The future of rock and roll, so retro it makes me want to dance like …
What if The Libertines were basically decent guys? What about the early Rolling Stones, or Guns N' Roses, or any of the bands who just want to play some rock and fucking roll? I mean like if they didn't ruin their girlfriend's lives and if they didn't smoke crack and …
Reviews of music this insular, personal, and weird usually end up talking about other artists. Something along the lines of: "Cho sounds like that one guy, but with a hint of that other guy. A complex ratatouille of influences including..." but I can't write that review for a couple of …
You know what I liked when I was in high school? Actually, you can probably guess this one. I liked The Smashing Pumpkins. You probably did too. I know for damn sure the Distortions did. Their Myspace page lists them as indie/shoegaze/post-punk, but I'm not seeing it. I guess it's …
It took me a little while to hear the music in this music. At first and even tenth listen, Marnie Stern sounds more dedicated to experimentation, or newness, or maybe just weirdness than to melody or even song structure. Her ideas appear, collide, and disappear - she's less an architect …
When I'm on a road trip, I get this undeniable urge to listen to All-American music. We're talking CCR and we're talking Skynyrd and Tom Petty, and we're talking Violent Femmes and Pavement and Modest Mouse. Something about that western scenery. Just like you can hear the British in an …
Kanye has lost it. Well, sort of. I don't know. Shit, I'm sorry. Believe me, I am. I didn't want this to happen. Unlike most of the intelligent people in the world, I had convinced myself that his absurd behavior was justified, that he really was as good as all …
Applying the finishing touches to a viola-and-recorder composition evocatively recreating the world of Sloppy Joe Riggs-Lattimer (a red-headed scientologist Jew known only to the residents of 1980's Pennsylvania) Sufjan Stevens decides to take a midnight stroll through the brisk fall air. Stopping to gaze lovingly at the moon, he is …
Dear 1992, Wow. It's really been a long time. I bet you're kind of surprised I'm writing to you at all. We didn't really know each other when you were around. But I was pretty busy. I had that gig taping firecrackers to GI Joes and that other one where …
It's raining today. No sun. Shaking angly tree branches. Impenetrable sky rising up out of the ground. Hourless glide from late morning to dusk. I've been in bed all afternoon, admitting how sick I've gotten over the last week. Fucking autumn: always makes me think of Portland. Portland used to …
Remember when music had regional traits? You know - Chicago Blues, East Coast Swing, Seattle Grunge? Yeah, me neither. No one reading Internet music criticism does. But you can imagine, yes? It's kind of cute. Exciting, for the sort of person who loves over-precise analysis of pop-culture artifacts. Which I …
What if an album isn't an album? What if it falls into absurdity while no one is listening? Does it make a series of obnoxious sounds? I'm probably coming off like some Bacharach-rocking philistine, but I really really like songs. Failing that, riffs. Failing that, music. The album Way by …
To those who have been diligently searching the internet for more exposition on the new Lithops project: Finally! Here it is! I have some bad news for you! This review is being written by a dude who calls this stuff techno and wears flannel. Deepest apologies to serious fans: I …
Starting an indie album with a song called "Manchester" is a little bit like putting the word "Metaphor" in the title of a poem. It's obvious; a red flag. Given Manchester's place in the history of indie albums, it's about as subtle as the dude in the chicken suit outside …
1. This is soundtrack music. I couldn't hear it at all until I took a drive through the hills, windows down at night, blaring this EP to stay awake until I got home. I put it on because all I could hear in it was THE KIND OF SHIT TO …
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