There comes a time about once a year when I feel as if I should review something by a band you’ve heard of. I’ve decided to take that option early because the new Queens of the Stone Age record is available to me, and that band is incredible.
Music geekery: the blueprint
Nobody is a stranger to the concept of “the geek.” The word’s been pejoratively thrown around since the ’80s, and it’s only recently that people have started embracing their geekiness without fear of having their underwear pulled over their heads.
This ain’t your mama’s Police
Our country’s noise scene is dying. And before you rush to your computer to email me about how you or your friend are currently in between two and seven noise projects, allow me to offer a preemptive shushing: I’m talking about noise acts that take their shows on the road, where they play for actual people who pay money to see them.
It’s happened to everybody: Someone well versed in current trends and music inevitably asks if you’ve heard a particular song, and by all means you should have. However, this one song managed to slip through the cracks, and you’re left questioning your musical omniscience.
Uncle Acid’s second trip
Following a band’s catalog from day one is a challenging but mostly rewarding task. Of course, undertaking the task usually requires that you actually like the band. In the case of Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, the experience is as enriching as any.
Finally, corpsepaint everyone can enjoy
Let’s get one thing straight: Sweden practically invented metal and corpsepaint (black-and-white metal makeup), and after all the time they’ve put in, they’re entitled to do whatever they want with it.
Old soul from an old soul
I am not one for much cosmic mumbo-jumbo, so I have a somewhat difficult time admitting that I chose Charles Bradley’s Victim of Love because I read online that the singer and I share a penicillin allergy.
What would you expect from a band named after a decidedly metal piece of Scandinavian mythology? Metal? Of course. But that’s not all that lies beneath the surface of Saga, The Flight of Sleipnir’s newest record. In fact, the album title is the most apt descriptor of the record. A band named after Odin’s eight-legged horse doesn’t exactly conjure up the contents of the record: bluesy folk metal.
Dancing? In Portland?
House dance parties may be the norm in Portland, and that’s fine if you want to dance for 45 minutes in someone’s living room to a handful of boring Crystal Castles remixes.
Greet the machine
There comes a time in every metal fan’s life when he or she must 86 the heavy—if only for a few minutes. Frankly, I’ve written so much about metal lately that I’ve turned my back on almost everything else. And while there’s plenty of good metal coming out right now, even the most blackened metal aficionado needs a break every once in a while. Enter: Lady Lamb the Beekeeper.
What’s in a name?
In music, predictability is usually a bad thing. But when one lays eyes on the album cover for Kongh’s new album, Sole Creation, a maelstrom of thoughts come to mind: epic, badass, heavy. And friends, lovers of heavy music, aficionados of drop-tuned harmonic splendor—I am here to report that Kongh delivers. You can judge this book by its cover.