RECOMMENDED

Without Fishbone, Sublime and No Doubt would have wound up being drug-addled SoCal footnotes. Whatever eventually became the American conception of ska music didn’t begin with Angelo Moore and Norwood, but their group’s all-inclusive approach to songwriting influenced a generation of weird bands. It’d actually be reasonably easy to round up Fishbone’s Jamaican-related efforts onto a single disc–the six-minute “Party at Ground Zero” being an epic accomplishment made even more stunning by the fact that the song was issued as a part of the band’s first EP back in 1985. Read the rest of this entry »

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Every good theatrical performer benefits from having a partner tuned in to his or her brand of noxious foolery. BBQ has been King Khan’s foil on and off since the mid-nineties, when the pair performed as the Spaceshits, a Canadian garage and punk ensemble. The group served as training ground for the two performers who would continue recording together sporadically in ever-evolving situations over the next decade and change. For Khan, the Shrines, a German R&B group replete with horn section and a dancing girl, next served as his sounding board, holding down a groove for the singer and guitarist to flip out, dance around half-clothed and engorge his public persona with an even greater sense of abandonment. Read the rest of this entry »

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Driving east out of the Bay Area certainly starts out enjoyably. Passing through the various East Bay communities and into cowtown cities, a bucolic landscape unfolds only momentarily disrupted by Sacramento. Entering Tahoe National Forest, despite a few reminders of the Donner Party, it’s easy to understand the allure California holds over so many folks. Coming down out of those mountains, Nevada begins to unfurl, verdancy replaced with shifting brown hues. Then travelers enter Reno. The freeway, which eventually leads to an interstate stretching to Chicago and on to the East Coast, is a major route for drug trafficking. “Reno 911” isn’t a joke—it’s variations on reality. In Reno, getting stopped by cops and being detained for no reason isn’t beyond the realm of possibility. And they really like unloosing the K-9 unit. Read the rest of this entry »

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The party line regarding Pittsburgh’s The Cynics is that the band kept simple-minded garage rock alive during the mid to late eighties not just by reinterpreting its dulcet, scuzzball tones, but by running Get Hip Records. Matched up to the indie-inspired crop of relative newcomers to the genre over the last decade, it’s reasonably easy to discern a difference between those folks and Pennsylvania’s torch-bearers. Read the rest of this entry »

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As a singer whose singles are as highly prized as his live performances, Lee Fields doesn’t boast the most sprawling back catalog of any vintage soul shouter. Instead, his recordings, slowly measured out over time, distill the steady advancement of a groove technician supremely engaged with wrenching the most emotion out of the minimal backing he’s associated with. Dishing out “Bewildered” in the late sixties, a song James Brown worked with almost a decade earlier, wasn’t a leap forward in the genre. Sharing a syncopated minimalism with the better-known vocalist followed for Fields. As much as any lone funky track can revel in a solitary musical idea, “She’s a Love Maker,” from Fields’ 1973 “Let’s Talk it Over” turns in a reasonably traditional backing track as the singer figures out one of his femme-conquests.

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The lonesome recording artist Jimmy LaValle, a.k.a. The Album Leaf, is set to bring to life his ambient, dreamy electronica soundscapes at the Bottom Lounge with the help of a live band. The intricate pieces that LaValle creates on record are not simply reproduced straight from the studio, but rather added to and re-imagined with the help of the three musicians that tour with him. The songs are kept sounding fresh so that they may continue to evolve regardless of the fact they have been committed to record. Read the rest of this entry »

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In a town where Steve Albini remains important enough to comment on rap groups he’s never heard, nor cares about, a band like Swans should draw a healthy crowd. Much in the same way Albini’s earliest groups dealt in post-industrial rock-hatefests, Michael Gira and his New York-based Swans have steadily churned out weirdo theatrics for the last several decades. With a hiatus that allowed Gira to rev up his Young God imprint, Swans haven’t influenced current touring troupes in a musical sense so much as Gira’s served as paean to how destructive slow songs can be. Paired with Gira’s band is former Sun City Girls’ guitarist Sir Richard Bishop and his collected Freak of Araby Ensemble. Read the rest of this entry »

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Music geeks should really be thankful that festivals like All Tomorrow’s Parties and Lollapalooza are able to toss around interesting sums of money, coaxing would-be disbanded acts out of the shadows. The Olivia Tremor Control, which was briefly summoned back to the stage in 2005 for ATP, has become another revival act of sorts after its ten-year hiatus. As a part of the Elephant 6 Collective, a wide ranging association of pop-psych bands including everyone from the Apples in Stereo to Jeff Mangum’s Neutral Milk Hotel, this group gained underground acclaim during its initial run between 1992 and 1999. Releasing a few long-players brought out the major-label vultures and, with reasonable suspicion, the group decided to take a break for a bit in lieu of signing away the rights to new music in order to pull in a big, corporate payday. Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

The Miami four-piece Torche is one of those “Dirty Southern” metal bands that can easily be filed alongside the likes of Baroness, Mastodon and Kylesa. What these bands have in common is that they are all unashamedly heavy, with their feet firmly planted in the sludge metal genre, but are progressive enough in their outlook to engulf myriad other influences to create a sound that appeals beyond the typical metal fan base. Torche’s crushingly heavy drop-tuned riffs and thunderous bass parts, which have made up their back catalog, blend with a sense of melody and pop sensibility that makes their songs exceedingly catchy. Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

Madball, one of New York’s longer-running acts trucking in the hardcore milieu, came to prominence during the early nineties with a a single featuring a handful of Agnostic Front’s brain-trust. That group, which is oddly best known for its cover of “Crucified,” remains a cultural crossroads for the genre, after which divisions among city-centric eighties hardcore scenes devolved to surprising lows. Henry Rollins frequently gets tagged as the figure moving punk from a haven for pencil-necked geeks to a place where tough guys exert dominance. But more than that much-maligned figure, New York’s mid-to-late eighties scene should be understood as the turning point. Granted, if you’re squatting in some abandoned building, being able to dole out beatings is worthwhile. The ability just doesn’t always need to be taken to shows. But Madball sounds like it should soundtrack the murder of some schnook on the Lower East Side. After the band jettisoned its AF members, Freddy Cricien fronted a group interested in merging hardcore, metal and thrash. Songs’ runtimes don’t usually move beyond two minutes—best-case scenario, it’s all over in less than sixty seconds. After a trio of mid-nineties albums, the band settled on a relatively consistent sound, turning in gang-shouted choruses and barely audible grunted verses. While the group persists in being recalled for thrashy tempos, it’s the breakdowns when Madball works best—from “Spit on Your Grave” to “Timeless” from the group’s newest disc, 2010’s “Empire.” Being true to oneself and fighting well doesn’t provide for much lyrical development, but if you’re punching a guy in the face while dancing, it might not matter too much. (Dave Cantor)

June 24 at the Bottom Lounge, 1375 West Lake, (312)666-6775. 5:30pm. $20. All ages.