Jim Hewitt's self-recorded 2010 EP, Imago Demos (under the temporary
moniker Young Minds), wasn't just a bedroom project. The Allston songwriter was
so uncomfortable singing in front of his roommates that he'd venture out to his
car in order to record his vocals in isolation. Recently, Hewitt re-emerged as ORCA ORCA, named for nothing
really beyond a casual affinity for killer whales.
Last month, "On the Download" premiered the first MP3
from Dirty Bombs, a Voltron-esque local supergroup featuring
members of Televandals, the Luxury, and Conservative Man. Their collective
mechanical roar persists here with "In Every City," a blistering
post-millennial rock joyride that opens like an explosion, breaking at once into
its electro-disco chorus before bouncing along through seas of fuzzed-out synths and thumps while maintaining a
vicious alt-rock edge.
Last summer, 40 fairly hung-over Boston-area musicians got together on a Saturday morning and were chosen at random to create eight supergroup quintets. Their mission, after introductions and a few hours of practice, was to perform three new songs and one cover in front of a demanding audience that evening at the Middle East for an event called One Night Band.
Even in the past decade of ambitious musical mash-ups, disco and shoegaze were genres that rarely crossed paths. After all, it’s hard to dance to a sonic wall of reverb. But local trio 28 Degrees Taurus have injected a bit of disco strut into their trademark sound of traditional Asian folk melodies and ambient noise-rock.
With a rattling echo that conjures a battle cry skittering off the walls of a great Viking hall, Andy Beresky's repeated wounded howl of "War! Swine!" at the 4:20 mark of this eight-minute epic is a sound to behold. Off a Serpent Records split 12-inch with Kentucky metal duo Old Ones, "Warswine" works as a sampler of everything that Beresky's Northampton doom crew BLACK PYRAMID do right -- punishing fretwork and low-end stuttering riff yawns, sure, but also multiple dynamic shifts, fist-pumping vocal-anthem blasts, and chasm-bridging lead breaks that flicker and lick your ear like fire flares bursting out of a gurgling lava trench.
Night Fruit may be relatively new to the scene, but the noise-smart Cambridge trio aren’t lacking in local-rock pedigree. Guitarists Amanda Dellevigne and Jonathan Gill built buzz in the gone-too-soon ’90s-flavored trio Hot Box while drummer Luke Sullivan was cavorting around town with alt-rock-minded Left Hand Does.
From Warsaw (Joy Division) to Rocket Baby Dolls (Muse), a change of band name can often pave the way for future success. So when the YEAR MILLION dumped the Spectator tag a few months back in favor of the H.G. Wells–inspired moniker, what followed was a slew of new progressive-rock compositions and a wave of new-band optimism.
In its first 20 Web-isodes alone, Quiet Desperation showcased
the mirth and hilarity of more than 200 comics, actors, and musicians from the
Greater Boston area. The anomalous hip-hop artist among the talents whom Quiet
D ringleader Rob Potylo (a/k/a Roadsteamer) tapped for his reality sit-com,
Cambridge-based MC and New Alliance studio rat Father Abraham cut "Revere Beach" under the
influence of a pivotal exchange between Bean-bred comedians Joe Wong and Big Nezz from Web-isode seven.
Countless rappers have boasted of their coke-dealer and
weed-runner reputations. But few MCs have built their careers around thievery,
as is the case with Brownsville crook Thirstin Howl III. Like the Gilligan's Island character of
the same name, this self-described skillionaire likes his gear preppy.
If you’re familiar with BODEGA GIRLS’ balls-out booty attack, the details of “We Are Losers” won’t surprise — chunky electro-kickdrums, squiggle-vision synths, and gang vocals figure heavily in this track’s game plan. But the secret weapon is the alchemy they exhibit on the chorus, which is lifted from either the Violent Femmes or, better yet, Ready for the World’s ’85 jheri-curl jam “Oh Sheila.
We first told you about ENDLESS WAVE earlier this year in our “5 for ’10” round-up, back when the songs that make up their new City Walls EP (Fort Point Records) were just demos with a dream. A few months in front of the knobs and a bit more sonic breathing room have done wonders for the trio’s potent shoeblazing style, and “Ocean Drive” — with its crashing crests of vocal delay, streaky cirrus-cloud solos, and freaky hybridization of Pale Saints and Pavement — makes one spiffy ambassador for their promising debut.
Getting 10 or 12 four-minute songs ready for pressing is like getting 10 or 12 four-year-olds ready for a party — it takes what feels like forever. So when local pop powerhouse five-piece TAXPAYER found themselves in a particularly fertile stretch — cranking out four songs in as many months, and sharing the burden of songwriting equally for the first time — it didn’t make sense to keep them hanging around.
Meet HOWL, a Providence quartet who seek to ruin your face with their particular brand of devastating metal insanity. To that end, they’ve gone and gotten signed to the venerable Relapse label and assembled Full of Hell — a nine-song guided tour through a world in chaotic decline. Take “Heavenless”: its charge of feral drums comes at you like the Four Horsemen, then the guitars rear up and the ground gives way as Vincent Hausman’s hoarse, ungodly roar narrates the collapse.
This doesn’t happen very often, so brace yourself for the biggest MP3 of the Week trifecta ever: PHANTOM GLUE’s “Phantom Glue” off Phantom Glue. As that unlikely trinity might suggest, this is the sound of a sludge-metal band in the throes of full stonerific self-realization. And it’s a brute-iful thing.
Now that we can hear about actual dance music being made in Boston without having our monocles drop into our drinks, we can put the wildness of it all behind us and focus on culling through the virtual crates of local talent for the best cuts. Lo and behold: “How We Lustre.” It doesn’t get much smoover than this. Local DJ/producer Brenden Wesley’s CREATURES OF HABIT come on just strong enough with their loungy noir number.