Tag: M. Ward

If you need the musical equivalent of a quality pint with a good friend, The Bug Club is here to serve.

Once upon a time, the Jesus Lizard was about as subtle as a candy-coated cinderblock. These days, well, they’re about the same. Tonight, they introduce things with a speculative reminiscence that is measured, philosophical, and yet somewhat menacing.

Raw as a blister and smooth as obsidian, Okay Kaya is a spinner of tales and shifter of moods.

There’s a lot of great new music out there right now, and near the top of the heap is The Bug Club, whose most recent release is filled to the brim with joyful nuggets of everyday life. The school year has started and the coffers are overflowing with a lot of great new music.

All the kids are into it, and M. Ward is just itching to tell us about it.

If you want suave, it’s hard to get more suave than “Blue Velvet,” and horror-surf combo Messer Chups delivers a version that’s not only suave but also quite kinetic. From the accelerated temp to the lyrical guitar line to the luscious spring reverb, it’s a welcome spin on the old croony standard. Tonight’s show was accompanied by tremedous wind and lightning, with occasional rain.

The new album from Jen Cloher is magnificent, and when her Twitter account favorited the playlist entry for the lead track tonight, I near swooned. I recommend you listen to I Am The River, The River Is Me from start to finish, and enjoy something you’ll be doing for years to come for the first time. In other news, our recently adopted cat Princess Otoboke Beaver (aka Pris) gave birth to four healthy kittens on St. Patrick’s day — Ziggy, Stardust, Spider, and Mars.

Sometimes it takes a while for an album to be recognized as a classic, sometimes the shock of recognition is instant and universal. This is the case for Spoon and their latest release, Lucifer on the Sofa, which showcases much of what has made the band a constant source of solid material, but in a concentrated way that will make you start all over as soon as you hit the end.

Caterer was the unmistakable voice behind the Smoking Popes, and his post-Popes career has taken many interesting turns, something reflected in this collection of croony standards and revisited songs from his previous band.

Years from now, the early 2020s will timestamp short albums recorded and released during isolation the way protest songs on the pop charts mark the late ‘60s. This one would be near the top of the heap, intimate yet meticulous.