Tag: The Nude Party

Strip it all down to nothing and join The Nude Party in their loosely grooved lifestyle.

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.

As it happens, if yours truly has a Valentine’s gig, it’ll be followed by one on Pi Day. Except on leap years. But the point here is that I thought about doing a show themed on circles, spheres, and other such expressions of the number and decided against it, but keep your ears peeled for some future incarnation of a “Round and Round” playlist. Instead, tonight we kick things off with the sort-of eponymous track from The Nude Party’s latest release, and wrap things up with about 30 seconds of Railroad Jerk, because technical difficulties.

Taking a vibrantly psychedelic sound and drenching it in cavernous production has made sure Lilys have always floated through time with a sound that is clearly from the past but also obviously from the future.

Canadian indie guitar geniuses Born Ruffians have released two great albums in less than a year, and easily earned the distinction of being the first artist to twice be featured on a Mixtape.

Viagra Boys don’t care what you think… there’s plenty of room for a saxophone and John Prine covers in the backseat of a 21st century punk band.

“Batu means ‘rock’ in Malay” said the photographer, for the third time in a week. The sous-chef ignored the comment, also for the third time, and tried squinting in the darkness at the cribbage board. They had been wise enough to purchase a glow-in-the-dark deck after all these midnight assignments, but had yet to extend their ingenuity to the board. Tapping a foot in irritation, they knocked over the thermos full of hot cocoa set on the steps, and it would have rolled down several long flights of guano-covered stairs had it not been stopped by the tandem bike’s wheel leaning against the statue’s pedestal. Above them, Lord Murugan stared stonily into the dark.

There’s no detail too small or scar too deep for Eels to pick up and examine in a wry musical light.

The effervescent jangle of German trio A Tale of Golden Keys is intricately engineered to make your ears ask “what was that?”

If you got The Nude Party to perform at your next get-together, it would be the kind of shindig that produces two marriages, three break-ups, and gossip for years to come.