Grabbing my girl by the hand, we spun and twirled, jitterbugging, doing the Charleston, Lindy, and the Two-Step. We were the only ones. Uneducated cretins.
A huge wall of guitars roaring, simply, loudly and majestically, over which the patented drone vocal was laid. They’re punk, and not getting watered down.
I definitely recommend you blast “Deceived” in your car. It’s definitely an intense song I enjoy when I am pissed while delivering pizza for Papa Gino’s.
Songs that were as tight as Newt Gingritch’s sphincter. Two basses, good fashion sense from the guitarist, and a freight train of sound bowled us over.
I was chosen to go see Klover at Bill’s Bar. The real reason I’m here is because of an “erotic fashion show” by Sarah Good, a dressmaker/store owner in RI.
Riverdales keep it simple: No excessive harmonies, no tricky time changes, and few variations in tempo, key, and beat. Yet the songs are instantly catchy.
Too punk for their own good, the Red Aunts fuckin’ rocked! Nothing is sacred when they have mics at their mouths. They insulted everything and everyone.
Machinery Hall have played over 450 shows in just three years. They’re on tour in support of Title. This band does not know the meaning of the word “stop.”
A the staid Baystate Hotel, where most people are too cool to move, they were hot footin’ it around the carpeted floor. Yeah, they were cuttin’ up the rug.