Tag: Cut Worms

Do not be intimidated by their size, or their nudity — Naked Giants are just here to have a rocking good time.

The end of the year slide has commenced, and things feel somewhat lackadaisical, but there’s still a huge backlog of new music to get through. Among the highlights is a new album from Amyl and the Sniffers, which contains lots of great stuff the FCC would frown on, but I was able to find one track that required minimal editing for compatibility.

Something about Margaret Glaspy’s voice makes me want to hang out and listen to her laugh.

In the last few years, John Lydon, once known to the world as Johnny Rotten, has been in the news for a variety of reasons, none of them related to his music, most of them leading to unfortunate public judgements. His band’s new album makes their name Public Image Ltd a handy reminder, as it serves up a take on society more in tune with their past work than the expected yelling-at-clouds. Elsewhere! To the listeners voicing strong opinions about the adorably shrill kids’ story that ran at the top of The Final Hour — your comments were passed on to Management and that short chunk of audio root canal is gone. Well done!

They appear to be American, not so much Trappists, but they sound like a clattering of drums and hooks.

If you want suave, it’s hard to get more suave than “Blue Velvet,” and horror-surf combo Messer Chups delivers a version that’s not only suave but also quite kinetic. From the accelerated temp to the lyrical guitar line to the luscious spring reverb, it’s a welcome spin on the old croony standard. Tonight’s show was accompanied by tremedous wind and lightning, with occasional rain.

The Scientists have been conducting their Australian experiments in proto-punk for over four decades now, and it's surprising that they've yet to publish in a peer-reviewed journal.

Canadian indie guitar geniuses Born Ruffians have released two great albums in less than a year, and easily earned the distinction of being the first artist to twice be featured on a Mixtape.

It’s the triumphant return of Pom Poko and their shattered-and-reassembled attacks of aggression and affection, like the sonic equivalent of staying inside the sauna for as long as you can, then running out to roll around in the snow.

This is a heady mix of Tin Pan Alley melodies, lonesome cowboy delivery, and ornate arrangements fit for the most dramatic of the theater kids.