Tag: Khruangbin

What this band brings to the mainly-instrumental surf guitar disco potluck is exactly what you'd expect a band invited to the MISGDP to bring, but let's be honest for a minute: we don't ever want to run out.

The sound of Chicano Batman is a half-dozen ice-cubes liquidly clinking in a tall glass.

Khruangbin promises exotic destinations and luxurious accommodations in the distant hum of a prop engine.

It was a globe-spanning show, with listeners checking in from the Grand Valley, the Florida swamps, and as far as Japan, where it was already Wednesday lunchtime. Meanwhile, The Libertines are up to their old antics again, at least the ones where they sound like a recently unfrozen cadre of British Invasion troglodytes. Also fun: playing a track called “We Will Not Apologize” and following that up with “Stop Apologizing”. Sounds about right.

When you set out to record a song that’s been famous, or popular, or claimed in some other way by some other artist, you are taking a shortcut with great risks and great rewards. Rarely can you pull it off the way Chicks On Speed do with their rendition of Cracker’s “Euro Trash Girl,” with a radical approach to deconstructing and reassembling the indie country hit. You’ll just have to hear for yourself.

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

There are many bands that go by W.I.T.C.H. but this is the only one where it stands for “we intend to cause havoc.”

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!

Bo Diddley may have written tonight’s opening cover, and Spoon may be the one actually performing it, but the spirit of Billy Childish, whose version earworms its way through my head every year or so, is quite strong on the shambling, end-of-the-rehearsal vibe heard here. To the listeners voicing strong opinions about the adorably shrill kids’ story that runs at the top of The Final Hour — your notes have been passed on to Management.

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.