As much as I adore Tim Kinsellas’ brilliant wordplay (and articulate political stance), this Joan Of Arc album only leaves me yearning for an Owls follow-up.
Recorded in clean and natural sound, there’s no reason the next time you win the lottery you shouldn’t fund these guys, Acid Ape, Volume, and Dead Meadow.
Rise Against has once again piqued my interest in this genre, or maybe I’ll just play this record and consider it to be the only punk rock album in existence.
The Cardigans’ bassist has assembled a gentle disc that plays like a journal over old Parisian jazz. The sound waxes mystical, sentimental, sweet, wounded.
In abandoning the Swans moniker, Gira approaches his style in a fresh way, repetition not morphing into tedium, his attitude brighter (Well, not as depressed.)
The new line-up’s attempt to once and for all slap the public in the face and receive the long-overdue credit for trailblazing the industrial/metal genre.
Explosive post-hardcore laced with lapses of tranquillity, Standstill present song after song of unpredictability, harnessed into Fugazi-worthy seizures.
Multi-instrumentalist/songwriter supreme Mike Kinsella is back with his second Owen disc, again writing, peforming, recording, and producing everything himself.