Tag: Metric

Bring your surfboard and get ready for a big fat middle finger to the man from The Lemon Twigs.

It’s the first night of the year where I arrive at the station in daylight. Also, it’s been unseasonably cool. But neither of those things is as notable as a new album from Toadies which brings up more of that brutal precision fuzz pop that made my ears perk up the first time I heard them over 30 years ago. Elsewhere tonight: a phone call from PJ, on the road, and middle-cased keyboards.

Lewsberg wear their love for certain protopunk prototypes quite well.

Let’s face it, we’re going to be hearing tracks from The Bug Club for a couple months, since I keep finding gems strewn loosely about their most recent album. Lots of listeners checked in for this show, my apologies to those that checked out during the elevator hellride at the beginning of the show. Technical issues, we’re working on them.

Cheekface takes nothing seriously, not even my undying love for their questionable attitude.

Firing things up near the top of tonight’s Mixtape are The Hives and the precision attack of “Rigor Mortis Radio,” from their recent return to affairs of sound. Also, what do you know… another fine Fugazi cover to open tonight’s mixtape, this one the chromatic riffing of “Merchandise” as interpreted by Sounds Of Swami. Elsewhere tonight, a shout-out to Chuck Dinkins for introducing me to Tupelo Chain Sex.

Music all about your special someone and / or a newborn human.

Sneer at the formula all you like, but putting a strong, dynamic female voice, one which ranges from a husky whisper to an anguished scream, in front of a well-produced guitar-centric combo can sometimes yield unexpectedly unique results.

Not unlike fine Swiss clockwork, the duo that calls themselves Yello have been ticking for four decades without missing a beat.

They call it Hotlanta for a good reason, but I’m sure The Black Lips have enough bad attitude to have way more colorful names for their hometown.