Tag: David Bowie

Things are nice and cozy inside the Foxwarren, but it’s hard to deny the underlying feral scent.

Looks like July will be another three-show month, so I’m preparing lots of audio fireworks. We are delighted to discover Foxwarren and their sweetly trilling “Deadhead,” which features a most incongruous but enjoyable video. Also, Broncho was amazing, read my review on Ink 19.

The world that deliberately-lowercased beabadoobee presents in her new album Beatopia is pastel neon colors, soothing howls, bright shadows, and all manner of psychedelic oxymorons. Tonight’s show features its introduction of sorts, and closes with the unexpected krautrock drone of my current favorite discovery, Japan’s deliberately-uppercased MASS OF THE FERMENTING DREGS, whose all-over-the-placeness manages to live up to its intriguing name.

It’s hard to to live up to a name like Young Fresh Fellows when you’ve been at it for almost 40 years, but good time rock and roll never goes out of style.

In order to locate the psychedelic rainbow treasure trove that is Joey Joesph, you will have to navigate and defeat countless auto-corrects.

Coriky is three musicians crumpling up their resumes, throwing them to the floor, and showing you exactly what they can do.

The pediatrician scrambled on hands and knees after the rubber ball. It deflected off the base of the Monument to Fuel Tanker, his imperturbable brass cheer completely unaffected by the collision. The interlocutor looked around surreptitiously. Their aim was to provide some normalcy to the fact that two people were hanging out near one of the lowest-ranked attractions in Grodno while the sophisticated electronics built into their footwear communicated with the satellite and sorted out the problem with the statue. But maybe this game of jacks had not been the best idea for cover.

If a mermaid learned to play surf guitar, she could give Olivia Jean some exciting competition, at least for a little while.

The topologist carefully unfolded the graph depicting prime number frequencies. Across the scrub, the baker was returning from the Unimog, having concluded the search, and from the looks of their empty hands, unsuccessfully. They must have left it in the cab back in Calabar. Wonderful. Together, they considered the placement of the carved stone monoliths before them, their geometric arrangement random to the average visitor, but a clear reflection of order to the ancient people of Alok Ikom, and apparently, also related to the graph before them, with cataclysmic mathematical consequences.