It was the eve of the new millennium at Joe and Maxine Zawinul’s beautiful place in lower Manhattan. The music of Marvin Gaye filled the home — “What’s Going On,” as I recall. Zawinul had invited me to a small family celebration, and all my other plans for the big…
So witty, so inquisitive, so downright loquacious is Elisa Ambrogio that a telephone interview with her threatens to unravel at any given moment, to turn obliviously tangential — not unlike the music she’s made, until recently. A question about authors who influenced the Magik Markers singer/guitarist’s graphically provocative lyricism on…
The best descriptors for Devendra Banhart’s latest album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, come in pairs; one at a time doesn’t do justice to its heady tensions or its creator’s labyrinthine mystique. The record is kinetic yet placid, pensive yet droll, erratic yet strangely cohesive. The fact that singular phrases…
One of the mantras that emerged from the hippie counterculture movement of the ’60s was “never trust anyone over 30.” When you’re young, idealistic, and wearing rose-colored raver sunglasses to protect your eyes from the early-morning sunrise assault, that seems all right — especially since 30 seems impossible, a nonreality…
Heavy Metal: A Box Set Review in Three Acts: Act One:
[Jo Momma’s living room. Some empty bean bag chairs are stacked against the back wall. A tapestry for Mötley Crüe’s Theatre of Pain album hangs above them. As the curtain rises, Pontius Arse comes running into the room, carrying a really cool box that’s made to resemble an amplifier, with a knob that goes to 11. He is followed by “Diamond” Blackie Rocket]
Since the rest of the blogosphere is racing right now to review Rainbows, I figure I’d be a sheep and do the same thing. Let’s do a time-lapse chronicle of the proceedings. First listens, of course. While addled by fatigue. And I haven’t checked YouTube or bootleg sites for which of these songs have been released before, so excuse me if some of this is old news. (I saw Radiohead in a high school auditorium in 1997, so I have cred.)
It was a typical Tuesday morning. I was browsing through the used videocassette section of my local public library, musing over a fifty cent copy of “Hanging Up” when I heard a familiar phlegm-filled cough. My insides full of forebodings, I slowly turned around and faced my old high school nemesis and drinking buddy, Doug “Creosote” Huggins. His rangy limbs had not diminished in size and his shoulder length auburn hair was still flecked with pieces of orange carbohydrate from his job at the Cheezit cracker factory. “So, Neff,” he sneered in the inimitable Creosote way that so drove the women mad, “I see your taste in videocassettes has not improved.” I laughed in a manner that I hoped sounded courageous. “Not improved nothing Creosote. I was just considering purchasing this copy of Yankee Doodle Dandy, winner of three Academy Awards and item number 100 on the American Film Institute’s ‘100 Years…100 Movies’ ranking list.” He appeared dumbstruck but quickly recovered, putting on a contemptuous face. “And is your stomach still as weak as it used to be?” he asked, referring to the many shameful defeats I had suffered at his hands at the drinking table. “No,” I said, speaking boastfully. “Now my stomach is lined with iron unlike yours which is lined with cotton candy.” Once again he appeared dumbstruck but quickly spat out a retort. “Oh? Then perhaps we should test both your taste in videos and your digestional abilities with…a video-watching contest on the popular internet video site ‘You Tube’?”
We’d like to take a moment to let y’all know that Future Shock is brought to you by “The King of Beers,” Budweiser; American Apparel; and Halo 3 for the Xbox 360. (Excuse us for a moment, we have our tongues stuck in our cheeks).
And just why have we whored out our blog to corporate interests, you ask? Well, we’ve been doing the underpaid music journalism thang for way too long now, and have finally decided to barter our street cred for a big fat paycheck, just like some of the musicians and bands that announced upcoming concerts here in they Valley over the next few months. In other words, this week’s edition of Future Shock is all about the sellouts, baby. This isn’t a critique of their musical talents, per se (as we’re fans of each and every one of these dudes), but instead is an outlining of those who’ve sold their souls to the company store.
Like commandos descending from helicopters in the night, Turbonegro’s boisterous irreverence lands just in time to deliver a pinprick of humor to puncture rock’s ballooning self-importance. Theirs is a crowd-pleasing blow to the crotch of angst-ridden over-emoters and other phonies, resurrecting the idea that music should be fun and a…
Queens of the Stone Age cofounder/former bassist and Mondo Generator leader Nick Oliveri likes to play concerts in the nude. But, as Oliveri can readily attest, his, shall we say, “naturalist” approach is not without its hazards. He very nearly landed his naked ass in a Brazilian prison after Queens…
As he tries to launch a social movement that encourages people to address global warming and throw parties at the same time, Perry Farrell, usually chipper and optimistic in interviews, doesn’t mince words about the gravity of the crisis the human race now finds itself in. New Times caught up…
The kindly goblins who orchestrate the inner machinations of this here web-hole were nice enough to finally equip me with two things: 1) a list of links more befitting my “tendencies” and 2) an email account. So it is now that I beseech, nay, beg you to grace me with personal correspondence at matt.neff (at) newtimes.com. Suggestions, review requests, pizza recipes, and ferret-care tips are all welcome, but make sure you know what you’re doing—I don’t want to be knocked out in bed all week humming some nasty pop punk melody or sniveling with the woeful knowledge that I trimmed Chompy’s furry lil digging implements to the detriment of his (currently robust) health.
We’ve kinda had something of a contentious history with the folks at AZPunk (www.azpunk.com) over the past few years. The misfits and miscreants who populate the local Web site’s notorious message board have been known to rip us a new one for any number of reasons (such as slamming us for covering local musicians or scenesters that they feel don’t deserve any ink). But just like parents of naughty little children, we love ’em all just the same, which is why we wanna plug tonight’s AZPunk Fundraiser at the Wok Star, the rock club inside Scottsdale eatery Chop & Wok (7136 East Shea Boulevard).
In this week’s issue of the Phoenix New Times (on news stands now across the Valley), there’s a pretty off-the-chain profile in the music section by yours truly about local rapper Maja (a.k.a. H. Vincent Payne), a laid-back cat who offers a unique hip-hop style, whereby the 24-year-old drops rhymes chiefly about his love of anime, video games, ’80s cartoons, and other geeky topics de jour. The dude also lays down his lyrical dynamite in both English and Japanese (and occasionally even en Español), and has been a hit with nerdcore fans, Japanophiles, and other geeky types at the various anime conventions around the Southwest that he’s performed at, and even as far away as “The Land of the Rising Sun” (read: Japan).
Phoenix-based melodic rock group Runaway Diamonds has been asked to perform at the CMJ Music Marathon next month in New York. We’ve long been fans of the band’s quirky indie rock (we wrote a music feature about ’em earlier this year), and are glad to have them representing the PHX in NYC.
Call him the John Darnielle of the North. Like the Mountain Goats’ songsmith, John Samson of Winnipeg, Canada, has a high, reedy voice, modestly folk-inflected sound, and a keen lyrical wit. Samson played in the early ’90s with political punkers Propagandhi. In ’97, tired of catering to testosterone-fueled mosh pits,…
Since its inception, reality TV hasn’t brought us much in the way of realism. Someone who wouldn’t normally nosh on a plateful of live Madagascar hissing cockroaches breaking down and chewing on a few shouldn’t fall under the “reality” category just because there’s prize money involved and an accredited medic…
It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the Atomic Comics location in north Phoenix is a hubbub of rampant geek activity. Dozens of nerds of varying ages and belt sizes mill around the store looking for back issues of the Amazing Spider-Man, trading gaming tips, or participating in Yu-Gi-Oh! collectible card game…
Weirdness abounds is this week’s rendition of Future Shock, as we’re pimping the “just announced” concerts of numerous acts coming to the PHX in the near future that are kinda “out there” in many different respects, whether its outlandish stage performances, strange album titles, or bizarre music videos.
There’s no reason to fear 50 Cent, right? That’s what I tell myself while heading towards Manhattan’s Flatiron District for a one-on-one interview with the much-shot gangster emcee. The guy has no beef with me, and besides, he hangs out with people like Dustin Hoffman and Justin Timberlake, perhaps the two-unscariest guys in the universe.
So why — as I wait to be buzzed in behind G-Unit Clothing headquarters’ wall of bulletproof glass — am I shaking?
One of Jim Louvau’s favorite talking points when making a case for his new band The Attitude is the void to be filled because there are no more new rock stars. And he’s right. If you want cocksure swagger and violence, rappers have that segment fully under control. And as…
Juliette Lewis, the actress with the off-kilter gaze probably best known for her role as Mallory in Natural Born Killers, experienced a full-blown musical conversion a few years ago and formed a band called the Licks to record some Stooges-style rock. Lewis took some time while doing laundry to talk…
