By Dave Cantor

Whatever punk is, the music coalesced during the seventies. Arguments can be made that work by Arthur Lee and Love, the MC5 or the Stooges during the sixties were the movement’s first recorded curios. But it took a renaissance of serial killers during the following decade to create a national climate in which ugly music could proliferate. Dean Corll’s Houston killing spree, Son of Sam and the cultish murders Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole were involved with all nabbed headlines. But the crimes John Wayne Gacy was eventually convicted of stunned a nation and invigorated a clutch of area suburbanites. The Mentally Ill was formed in Deerfield during 1979 for no other reason than to record a single channeling the killer clown’s energy into music. It worked, and creeped out a lot of people. Read the rest of this entry »

You remember when your stoner-friend convinced you to see Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, saying it was a bluegrass band that jammed like jazzbos? That was a bum steer. But the same guy, if he hasn’t already done so, is getting ready to tell you about Railroad Earth. The New Jersey-based band’s gained significant traction during its decade’s long career, hitting festivals in Telluride and just about anywhere else patchouli and moonshine are scents lingering in the air. Read the rest of this entry »

The rockabilly genre’s pretty absurd—not that indie stuff, punk or whatever else isn’t. But at rockabilly shows, it’s pretty easy to catch furrowed brows, even if attendees aren’t attired in the proper duds. And really, who wants to dress like their fat Uncle Charlie? Attire fit for bowling, Gretsch T-shirts and DAs seem better suited to Jon Favreau movies than daily life. Utter devotion to a style, and a musical genre, that hasn’t changed in sixty years, though, is remarkable. The fact that new groups crop up and are able to tour with relative renown means enough people still care about Elvis and his descendants to pack rooms. Read the rest of this entry »

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Despite blues players hailing from various points in the South and congregating in Chicago, the town’s music has developed a distinctive sound. Of course, an outcropping of that was a homogenized take on the genre, making some second-tier players less than scintillating to hear. But that’s more the fault of the music’s restraints than the performers. Amid the crop of guitarists who cut albums and became synonymous with blues was a Mississippi native named Eddy “The Chief” Clearwater–well, Clearwater was levied on the performer by a manager to play off Muddy Waters’ moniker. Read the rest of this entry »

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Of the two Cleveland bands set to deliver well-worn metal and hardcore to audiences at the Cobra Lounge, Ringworm’s the better-known act, having worked with Victory Records during the better part of its career. And as a connection with that label hints, Ringworm takes itself as serious as its labelmates take animal liberation. Dedication is well and good, but occasionally makes the band hard to palate. “Angelfuck,” from last year’s “Scars” is tough to take in, but near classics like “13 Knots” just go down easy while aping a bit of thrash. Smart-ass uncaring runs through Keelhaul, though. Album titles like 2009’s “Triumphant Return to Obscurity” and a single from the same year called “You Waited 5 Years for This?” point to the level of professionalism the band holds itself to. Read the rest of this entry »

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Well, Matisyahu renounced dogmatic adherence to Jewish law that was written a few thousand years ago. He wasn’t exactly a rapper, favoring sparse Jamaican backing to traditional boom-bap. But when the performer, now shorn of his gnarly beard, ditched those antiquated ideals, he left Kosha Dillz as the most visible Jew-centric player in underground musics. Well, him and John Zorn. But their paths can’t cross too frequently. Born in New Jersey to folks Dillz refers to as Ima and Abba, Dillz began a serpentine path to becoming an established Los Angeles-based MC. Read the rest of this entry »

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Walking into a drugstore during the middle of the day doesn’t generally present the opportunity to chat up dead-eyed clerks. I, however, had the pleasure of accompanying a friend who was wearing a Kool Keith T-shirt on an important errand to snag a bag of chips. While being rung up, the clerk quizzically glanced at my friend’s T-shirt and asked, “Who’s that?” “Him? That’s Black Elvis,” my friend replied. “He stupid” was the retort. Black Elvis, one of Kool Keith’s innumerable aliases, is stupid. Read the rest of this entry »

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The 1990s and early 2000s, especially, were a crucial time for Victor Villarreal. After successful runs with punk pioneers Cap’n Jazz and Owls, among others, he disappeared from the scene he helped establish to focus on other, non-musical endeavors. His seven-plus-year absence ended in the summer of 2009 when the Chicago guitarist resurfaced in DeKalb, a small college town an hour and a half westward, with a handful of strings and headful of new solo material—his first ever to feature his own vocals. Villarreal played a couple of shows to support “Alive,” his debut album, before reuniting with his old bandmates a year later to tour with Cap’n Jazz. The months thereafter were quiet for him, and aside from an odd release here and there and a number of appearances supporting fellow Chicago outfit Joan of Arc on guitar, nobody really knew what Villarreal had been up to. Read the rest of this entry »

Photo: Caroline Tompkins

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There are places with a deeper connection to Jamaican music than Cincinnati, Ohio. The city, with its downtown area spilling over into Kentucky, feels like the gateway to the South. Doormen at shows can sport significant accents and there’re bound to be more than a handful of folks who eat nothing other than fried foods. Of course, Cincy counts Bootsy Collins as one of its best exports and Mood issued some of the most engaging hip-hop of the Rawkus era, pulling in Talib Kweli and DJ Hi-Tek as accomplices. The Pinstripes, though, sit outside of that history. Read the rest of this entry »

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The three Chicago bands—Moonrises, Wumme and ONO—set to take the Bottle’s stage on Monday the 16th represent dramatically different takes on music. Of course, somewhere, each of these ensembles has been referred to as psychedelic. With such unique practices setting each group apart, there’s bound to be at least one band concertgoers will love and at least one they’re likely to hate. Moonrises sports Plastic Crimewave Sound’s guitarist out front in a trio sans bass. It’s not probable a cover of “Light My Fire’s” on the way, but Moonrises skirts jazzier intentions as well, churning out tunes not dissimilar to Moon Duo. Read the rest of this entry »