From his private club, the Spellcaster Lodge, in New Orleans's Ninth Ward, the uncanny organist, inventor, and all-purpose entertainer Mr. Quintron has been spewing a stream of (be)low-fi releases attesting to his affinity for malfunctioning drum machines, pre-transistor electric gadgetry, medicine-show novelty hokum, and avant-garde noise.
1. Jonah Bloodbath puts on cool shows, most of them beneath the surface of the earth. Or, if you prefer, in basements. Or, if you're really a jerk, "underground." Jonah's band has a sorta long, annoying name. His label has the best name ever. The point, though, is that the boy is so focused right now.
1. Dungen, as close listeners to their music may have observed, are not from Boston. In fact, tonight is their first time in these parts. And yet, sorta like the first time Bevis Frond played here, everyone knows their name and is acting like they're old friends. Why? because that massive wave of US buzz on the album -- the one that has finally gotten it released domestically -- was generated largely on the efforts of some of our Malden neighbors
Um, the Fader beat us to this by like a minute, but yeah, that was the actual Disco Dposting on Hollerboard yesterday, scooping MTV news and everyone with details on Britney's husband's SOLO CD (?!). Who ever thought a thread about Brit's preggerz boobs would yeild something halfway interesting?:
"Seriously tho this shit is on the new school hick hop next level.
Three people will get that visual pun, and it's possible they're all in the top picture. In any case, this press release is for them:
Hello all - the Decemberists have just confirmed their dates for "The Flight of the Mistle Thrushes" Fall Tour 2005. Almost every date sold out on their spring tour, so this time the band will playing for the big crowds - note that they'll be headlining the main stage at Bumbershoot as well as playing multiple nights at classy music halls like the Fillmore in SF, the Henry Fonda in LA, and Webster Hall in NYC.
1. OTD is onrecord as being vehemently pro-Tunnel of Love. (That's them in the tights, at right, way down the bottom at present.) We will soon be on record as being pro-Radar Eyes. So even though we haven't seen them yet, we're already leaning towards being pro-GHETTO FIGHTERS, who are two tunnel of loves and one radar eye.
Yes, that's Dresden Dolls' Brian (left) and Amanda (right), making an iBrator sandwich out of Grand Opening!'s Kim Airs, all three of 'em popping off thanks to the strap-on Audi-Oh, one of those new-fangled doo-dads that syncs your nether regions to the music in your mp3 player.
In any other hemisphere, Sweden's Backyard Babies wouldn't bother kicking your ass in a room smaller than the FleetCenter. But since this is America the Stupid, where we hate any glam-punk that's ballsier than Mötley Crüe but less butch than Mike Ness, they'll make an exception, probably just this once.
The Stairs swear they aren't breaking up, they're just seeing other people. And maybe that's why they for their penultimate show last night at the Paradise Lounge, they conspicuously left the On Sleep Lab starter track "Don't Abandon Your Band" off of their setlist, and instead brought back their old keyboard player Rob Johnson, and even sporadically added a cellist and guest girl-vox to the already crowded stage.
Lo-fi game boys Mixel Pixel are still writing the occasional callus-thumbed Pac Jam, but with the video-game-rock underground getting overcrowded, MP's new Contact Kid (Kanine) finds them trading bleepy arcade fire for angular Daydream Nation indie punk. Doin the damn thang with Big Digits + Tigercity Great Scott, 1222 Comm Ave, Allston $7 617.
MicL Ptvn is the fu-manchued one on the right. Photo: Liz Linder
If you remember Lovewhip as the embarrassingly decent funk/juju band from a couple years ago, it’s time to take another look. After getting kidnapped and reprogrammed by the city’s foremost basement-party hipsters, frontwoman Erin Harpe has been reborn as a soulful electro-rock diva, and on the band’s new EP, Virtual Booty Machine, club remixes outnumber studio tracks 7-4.
Remember that Natasha Bedingfield jawn we were going on about earlier this week? "Read some Byron, Shelley and Keats/Recited it over a hip-hop beat"? Couldn't find the original, but urban radio promoters are doing one better:
The waaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy izzzzzz a trap! The waaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy izzzzzz ahhhhhhhhhhhhh trap!
That’s the unholy expression that Big Bear frontwoman Jordyn Bonds had last night when she hit the stage precisely at 11:30 at the MidEastUp—all stretched jaw muscles and werewolf howl. Damn, that girl can wail! During one breakdown, Bonds fingered the tambourine with the nervous energy of a kid chewing on hoodie strings while the rest of her bandmates walloped and slammed in place.
If you're looking for Pitchfork apologists, you'll have to surf elsewhere. But the state of rock-crit-dom is getting on towards ridiculous when people are calling LATECOMER** at someone who reviews the album the day it comes out. Just sayin'. But having said, how is it all these folks got room to talk shit when they have so muchSufjanStevensdickintheirmouths? Kid strums a nice guitar, but indiefolk collectively needs to get a grip.
We heard your band are selling their guitars and buying samplers. We heard your band are selling their synthesizers and buying guitars. We heard your bands are screwed, because Shutesbury-to-Brooklyn transplants the Mobius Band already have next-wave indietronica on lockdown. Added last-minute to the Do Make Say Think bill, they'll test-drive songs from their upcoming The Loving Sounds of Static(Ghostly) downstairs at the Middle East, 480 Mass Ave, Cambridge 617.