Tag: A Place to Bury Strangers

You will swoon as Geordie Greep croons sweetly to his army of scissor-limbed killbots.

Once upon a time, the Jesus Lizard was about as subtle as a candy-coated cinderblock. These days, well, they’re about the same. Tonight, they introduce things with a speculative reminiscence that is measured, philosophical, and yet somewhat menacing.

There’s a lot of great new music out there right now, and near the top of the heap is The Bug Club, whose most recent release is filled to the brim with joyful nuggets of everyday life. The school year has started and the coffers are overflowing with a lot of great new music.

Barry Adamson delivers soundtracks to cinematic masterpieces that don’t exist.

It doesn’t get more mid-century Goth than The Raveonettes picking up on the Velvet Underground’s “Venus In Furs”. Besides that, the tenor of the night tended to lean towards the acoustic, with a handful of sets exploring the pluckier side of things.

Nothing to do with Peggy Lee’s sultry standard, this particular “Fever” comes from Aldous Harding, whose unique marshmallows-and-razor-blades sensibility makes for songs that leave you bleeding but which you crave again and again. Also tonight and also from New Zealand, a track from Garageland, one of my favorite underrated Kiwi bands of the ‘90s, which isn’t saying much because they were all underrated and they are all my favorites.

I just recently noticed the Morbysphere, the term I had to come up with just now for all the interesting music swirling about Kevin Morby, his solo work and that with Woods and Babies, and now the work of his frequent musical collaborator Justin Sullivan as Night Shop, which vibrates in roughly the same product-of-two-primes harmonic frequency. Also tonight, I will be breaking my personal record for longest track played on the air with the full length of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s “The Dripping Tap”.

When I was younger, still developing my musical tastes, in an era where the Beatles were closer to those days than Nirvana are to these, I hated on Yoko. It's what we all did. The older me, like Stephin Merritt and the many other luminaries on Ocean Child: Songs of Yoko Ono, appreciates the inexpressible beauty and uncompromising nature of her art.