They spray Eau de Lesbos from their unshaven armpits. They are butch and blatant, miles from the closet, loud as a cranked amp. This is womyn cock rock.
The world’s favorite working class-yet-gentle Scotsmen have upped the saccharine and downed the shoegazing on their third record, much to diehard fans’ dismay.
Two of the best post-rock ensembles get together and come up with twisted, sometimes hilarious, creations that evoke Iron Maiden, Joan Of Arc, and Cheap Trick.
Pony Express is basically Starflyer 59 switching instruments: Jeff Cloud writes the songs, plays the guitar, and sings, and Jason Martin plays the drums.
From Atlanta. A British singer. One guitarists is into the lush texture of Midnight Oil and The Church, the other is into George Harrison and Keith Richards.
Sweet, catchy Britpop (relocated to NYC, but back in the UK now), not better or worse than the rest, but much more resourceful, for whatever that’s worth.