It’s easy to picture this quartet rocking out in a dark basement somewhere in hell, amidst perspiring black walls and watching fountains of blood gushing from the ears of a jubilant crowd.
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All that’s missing is an eight-track for the proverbial format hat trick.
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Ineffable is the one word that springs to mind when listening to the lucky 13th album from The Brian Jonestown Massacre.
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The fourth record from Baltimore duo finds them removing layers of gauze and wooziness but adding on layers of sound and intricacy.
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The Telescopes once had a reputation of being a C86-era Britpop jangly guitar band, but if they ever were that, they certainly are not in this present incarnation.
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While the bitterness was palpable throughout her set, so was Friedberger’s passion and humor, and her next record, and her next show, should not be passed up lightly.
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It’s like the band I wish somebody else was.
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This may not be the best, brightest or newest band on the block, but Conduits show a lot of promise on their first full-length
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Fifteen years into their existence, Mr. Impossible is their sixth record, and although they started as a thrash/noise group, they have more of an electronic orientation at this point in their evolution.
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The approach of the record was more “natural” and organic from beginning to end.
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Nootropics is at turns either achingly beautiful or achingly slow or both, which is at turns deeply entrancing or gratingly annoying.
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Although the British act was always Adam Franklin’s show anyway, he provided ample demonstration of the how and why in the environs of the black cavern under Chicago’s el tracks known as Bottom Lounge on Tuesday night.
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