Things for the local goth scene just haven’t been the same since Manray South closed. The once-vibrant Pompano Beach nightclub was a virtual mecca to the legions of goth and industrial fans that piled into the club on Fridays and Saturdays for live bands and dark-themed dance nights. But that…
So I checked my mailbox the other week and found a package from one BradLeo Fabian, postmarked with a Fort Lauderdale address. The last I’d heard from this guy, he was living in Orlando, playing in a band called BradLeo and the Heartstoppers (and before that, the Consumers). I’ve seen…
The last time I saw Circle Jerks live was in the very early ’90s at a now-defunct hole-in-the-wall club in Trenton, New Jersey, during their first “comeback” tour. The show was great, but even then, people were referring to them as the crusty old farts of punk rock. So what…
It didn’t take long for the Asylum Street Spankers’ video for “Stick Magnetic Ribbons on Your SUV” to become a big hit on YouTube. It’s exactly the type of guffaw-inducing political satire that gets e-blasted throughout cyberspace. Like any good Spankers’ song (remember “Boogers”?), “Ribbons” starts out innocently enough, sounding…
This is not an album that will translate into catchy ringtones or make you bounce in your car seat, bang your head, shake your booty with friends, or write angry/gushy diary entries about your recent ex. Listeners have to sit down and spend some time with it, because the music’s…
Inside the Tamarac home of Death Becomes You’s John Janos and Christopher Lee, the living-room wall is lined with many a horror flick poster — Frankenstein, Dracula, The Wolfman, Creature From the Black Lagoon, The Mummy. It’s pretty much what you’d expect from the group of theatrical horror-rockers. But the…
Twenty years ago, the goth-pop tendencies of Chicago’s Kill Hannah would have landed them squarely in MTV’s alternative-rock buzz bin. The evidence? Look no further than the cover of the Church’s “Under the Milky Way” on Kill Hannah’s latest album, Until There’s Nothing Left of Us. But it’s not 20…
Here’s a group of girls who look like they’re dressed for a slutty, gender-bending slumber party. In the song “Titties,” lead singer Kristin Allen-Zito asks, “What makes you think we can fuck, just because you put your tongue in my mouth and twisted my titties, baby?” But the Trucks aren’t…
Evidently, the Walkmen recorded Pussy Cats Starring the Walkmen as a spontaneous sendoff to their Brooklyn studio, its building having been slated for demolition. To that we say, who cares? With the exception of a few songs off its past two albums (“The Rat,” “Louisiana,” etc.), Pussy Cats is the…
In retrospect, it’s easy realizing Carlos Santana is one of the most influential guitarists of the post-Woodstock era. With the band bearing his name, Santana emerged from the same fertile Bay Area hippie-rock scene as the Grateful Dead. His singular blending of psychedelic rock, blues, cutting-edge jazz (à la Coltrane,…
For those unfamiliar with the latest wave of post-rock doom metal, here’s a quick debriefing: Imagine slowed-down Black Sabbath riffs with all the drama of an orchestra, more power than melody, and completely drenched in tube-driven thickness. It’s in this realm that South Florida’s Coffin Dancer sounds off, adding its…
From Scottish Highlanders scaring their enemies with bagpipes to American tanks blasting Metallica to ward off Iraqi insurgents, music has long been used as a weapon in combat zones. Most bands in the corny nü-metal movement used their music as a weapon too — against our collective eardrums and intelligence…
Phish lovers and Phish haters will react differently to Colorado ’88 (available at www.jemprecords.com). The first group is sure to be thrilled by these three literally jam-packed CDs from the combo’s early period, while folks in the latter category are guaranteed to think the set is more masturbatory than a…
With the recent takeover of Congress by the Democrats, it’s possible that the title of Peaches’ latest disc, Impeach My Bush, could be rendered prophetic. Chances are, though, it will be business as usual up in Washington, D.C., just as it is in the Peaches camp. If electroclash is soooo…
A good friend of mine in Los Angeles who’s extremely tapped into the music scene and underground goings-on swears up and down that ska is making a comeback and that it’s happening all over the country. If she’s right — and I haven’t yet seen or heard any proof for…
To the sheltered gringo, daydreams of Colombia conjure up images of picturesque beaches, tan women, and topnotch nose candy. The fantasy intensifies with smoked-filled illusions of the ever-mesmerizing Shakira, yet another of the country’s hedonistic pleasures. Known worldwide for her signature quaver and gyrating hips, the Latin pop artist has…
It was bound to happen sooner or later. After months of onstage collaborations, the Friendly Fire and Pyrohypnotik camps have tied the knot — part of ’em, at least. Since Pyrohypnotik has been on hiatus, one-half of the group — drummer Rolls Royce and vocalist Jessi James — has all…
With a name like Mongo, the North Miami fourpiece probably gets its share of “What’s that mean?” and “That’s the guy from Blazing Saddles, right?” The real question, of course, concerns the indie-rock band’s take on its chosen genre, which runs the gamut from midtempo, Guided by Voices-like rock to…
Shortly after Mötley Crüe embarked on its reunion tour with promises that it would go for two years nonstop, guitarist Mick Mars checked in with New Times. Given Mars’ health problems and constant physical pain (he recently had both hips replaced and has struggled with a degenerative illness for almost…
Is it overstatement to call American Hunger rap’s Blonde on Blonde? Perhaps it’s an understatement, considering that Dylan’s 1966 opus is a measly double album, while MF Grimm’s new triple album has 60 songs! Grimm’s latest isn’t as lyrical as Blonde on Blonde — it shrilly tirades against racism, politicians,…
This doesn’t sound like a Willie Nelson record, and it doesn’t sound like a Ryan Adams record (though he produced it). I don’t know what it sounds like, to be honest, save for some show-offy mash-up that does less to pump up Shotgun Willie than shoot his legs out from…
