An interview with Chuck Billy
It’s sonic sensationalism writ large, full-blown fakery as lush, powerful, melodramatic and meaningless as their platform-shod stomping grounds of Los Angeles.
If you were wondering who was gonna ride in the wake of hard rock/funk/hip hop heroes the Beastie Boys, check out a fab new band called Sugar Ray.
Personally, I wish the songs were shorter. That way, the forty-plus minutes of my life I wasted listening to this disc would be only twenty or thirty minutes.
An interview with vocalist Henry Font
Fountains of Wayne is self-consciously cool, hip Weezer-esque pop without any really memorable hooks.
An interview with Evan Dando
I’ve never much cared for Evan Dando’s faux slacker romanticism, but I do give him credit for his choice of cover songs.
Seven songs from John Carpenter’s sequel to the futuristic adventure flick Escape From New York and seven more songs that to increase the sales of the CD.
From the grinding groove opener “Fire in the Hole,” it’s obvious that this band hasn’t lost any of their potent hardcore crossover sound.
Stag documents the moment Melvins decided their Atlantic deal was not worth the trouble. It’s funny, annoying, and, once in a while, downright brilliant.
Years ago, the Scorpions patented formulas for melodic hard rock songs, both pounding hard and silky smooth, and Pure Instinct continues in that tradition
What MTV Buzz Bin is is a concise overview of post-Nirvana mainstream culture, stuff many of us have come to “love to hate” or hate ourselves for loving.
Two decent covers: “Love is All Around” by R.E.M., and Season of the Witch” by Luna. The throwaways are done by Wilco, Ben Lee, Jewel, and Bettie Serveert.
Extra Fancy falls into the new category, “gay-runge” (I coined it myself). The only problem is, the music itself sucks.
Still not original, the music is bar-band serviceable but awkward and stiff, and the lyrics continue to reach far beyond their grasp in search of profundity.
An interview with bassist/vocalist Art Mitchell, guitarist Jodey Lawrence, and drummer Dave Collins
There are no instant singles or clear pop hooks, but baby, I got a shiver…
Their third release (first for Atlantic), and still as coarse and nasty as ever. Selene Vigil screeches like she’s just had a car door slammed on her hand.
Steal every copy of this dung-disc that you can find and ritually burn them until no more exist. There’s no reason we have to put up with this shit.
Hello is well-manicured, accessible femme eclectica that tries on styles like Salvation Army fatigues, overlaid with unlocked-diary imagery alternately potent.
It’s a good, solid album of breathy sensuality mixed with anger and wit, but I miss the keyboards and devastating synths.
From the seasoned scenester’s pep talk for the aspiring young mosher, to the obligatory dis on the trouble-starters who spoil the fun, it’s all here.
They carve themselves a comfortable niche between Nirvana and the crunchy, pleasant unmemorability of Seaweed.
Another cringe-laden pastiche of arena-metal-meets-Chili-Peppers-diarrhea.
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