Tag: Django Django

Lush synthetic bitscapes, layered with drones, sweeps, short loops, and the ecstasy of robots make for a propulsive immersion into a world of flow.

You will hear their thunderous approach before you see them, and you will be surprised, for despite their name and the glorious stadium-sized riffing, Naked Giants are the size of mere mortals and usually appear dressed in public.

It's Member Drive time, and nothing says "support your community radio station" louder than three hours of Dub Night. Not a whole lot of funding was raised, but no matter! Three hours of heavy bass rhythms were played.

What is in that Canadian water? Kiwi Jr. are burning up my speakers with their latest release, a rich concoction of perfectly crafted indie guitar pop that seems designed to be played loud, and if I’m supposed to stop doing that, then I guess I’ll be buying new speakers soon.

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.

Raw, stinging, and pungent like a freshly-cut onion, The Bobby Lees quickly peel away their layers to share their tender, pearl-white hearts.

Billy Martin’s drumming makes me think of oxymorons like “precisely sloppy” and “intensely casual” and “red hot chill out”.

Following a proud tradition of weird Australian pop, The Stroppies give us the sort of incisive harmonic jangle the world needs right now.

Straight outta Staten Island, the Budos Band has enough energy to power a nuclear submarine for seven months, allowing it to circumnavigate the globe three and a half times.

I really love Khruangbin, despite the pronounciation quandary they plunge me into whenever I play one of their songs.