Tag: Femi Kuti

If you enjoy your cumbia abstracted and your merengue chopped to pieces, Los Pirañas have a dish for you.

Enjoy a small slice of tragic beauty in the form of Nell Smith, whose musical instincts reach well beyond her perpetually young voice. Tonight I had to park down the block, as The Sauce Boss was visiting the Radio Room all the way from my old Florida stomping grounds.

The three-hour live shows have settled into their own rhythm, with the stranger and more electronic offerings drifting into the territory of The Final Hour, between 11pm and midnight. This show is for the early risers who might be familiar with the upbeat indie pop that gets played at the top of the show but are missing out on the darker moods that are featured near the end.

Hailing from the southwest of France, The Llamps build on a sound that's equal parts New York City grit, San Francisco psychedelia, and spaghetti Western twang, which makes for a pan-global main dish.

Afrobeat continues to be a family business for the Kutis, and business is booming. Now representing the middle generation in this dynasty, Femi expertly delivers the expected stuttering beats and political dissent we have come to expect from the brand.

Some bands are obscure, others are sporadic, but The Mabuses are downright enigmatic. Their music is hard to describe, and while the word "psychedelic" has become a commonplace and devalued label to put on something these days, in this case it would apply as a feeling of existing in a disjointed but entirely fascinating musical reality rather than a genre.

Well, that was an interesting show. Not much listener activity tonight, though that's OK since I had my hands full with SSL certificate madness in order to finish the Secret Project that is this site itself. Perseverance at the command line won the day (and the small green lock on your browser bar), even if it was interrupted every minute or few with ongoing radio show requirements.

Side note: It is impossible to purchase or renew a certificate without at least two password resets. I'm not sure which of the thermodynamics laws governs this, but it seems to be fairly immut

The Thievery Corporation has institutionalized the plagiarism of genres, and this week's dub-influenced opener is no exception.

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

Beach House's music always rings as the soundtrack to some brain-warped too-much-party film montage. WIth "Drunk In LA", their song titles are catching up with the vibe.