Tag: Khruangbin

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.

I’ve done a couple dozen all-covers shows already, usually during fundraising, but for some reason have never come up with a name for them. It must have been because the painfully obvious Version Control hadn’t occurred to me yet, a real embarrassing confession given my day job in the realm of code. At any rate, it is here, and we are going to be versioning them semantically starting now.

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.

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.

This takes McCartney’s third “fine, I’ll do it all myself” effort and delivers it into some surprising and very capable hands, a diverse roster of artists who take these McCartney songs and fumble nary a one.

To make illuminati hotties for your gathering, splash melody and harsh noise into a tumbler, drop in some production trickery, and shake until you hear a dizzying howl emerge

The mysterious Orville Peck is a modern cowboy marvel, a rare and legendary masked man with a dusty guitar and a lonesome coyote howl.

The haberdasher heard a light thump and roll, then felt something tap against a shoe. It was a peach pit. Looking up from the stack of brochures, they saw the orthodontist grinning and wiping their mouth with a sleeve, glancing at the gap on the blanket where the fruit was drying in the sun, clearly suggesting that perhaps another one was in order. The tandem moped leaned against the back of the Gate of Hercules, shielded by its bulk from the bright Croatian summer sun. The peaches had hours to go, and they had forgotten to bring a game., having only whatever reading material they had managed to scrape up in the Hotel Pula lobby.