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Showing posts from February, 2015

IN REVIEW: Torche - "Restarter"

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Whether as a byproduct of their new label, a reflection of their influences or all of the above, Torche's fourth album (and first for heavy music stalwart Relapse Records) finds the Floridian noisemakers at their most visceral and immediate. Whereas previous LP Harmonicraft was a spit-shined refinement of their mountainous riff rock, steering them toward the crossroads of hard rock and pop, Restarter ignites a trail of gasoline and breathes in the smoke. The intentions are clear from the drop, as Annihilation Affair crashes in with an off-time, thunderous rhythm and some murderous guitar tones before giving way to a hypnotic, cacophonous groove that threatens to never end. As the clouds part, Bishop in Arms takes off on a stampeding rhythm (courtesy of tom-happy sticksman Rick Smith) and a soaring vocal by Steve Brooks. It's followed by Minions , the first taste we got of the record back in December. Heavy and methodical, its slow groove and melodic attack make it an easy f

IN REVIEW: Screaming Females - "Rose Mountain"

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Having spent most of the past decade toiling in relative anonymity and slowly building a reputation as a band to watch, Screaming Females started to make inroads with 2012's Ugly (which benefited from recording by Steve Albini). Three years later, they return with the massive Rose Mountain , an album that sees the trio dial back some of their noisier tendencies in favour of natural intensity. It's no bid for superstardom, but Rose Mountain should get Screaming Females some well-deserved exposure, especially in the immediate aftermath of last month's explosive new Sleater-Kinney record.  There are common threads to be traced through Rose Mountain , which is only fair considering S-K's status in the pantheon of alt rock. That's not to call the band or album derivative, as Rose Mountain is an incredibly strong record on its own merits; hooks are sharp, riffs are formidable, lyrics are smart. It all adds up to an incredibly enjoyable record, another early-year behemot

IN REVIEW: Danko Jones - "Fire Music"

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Longstanding Canuck rockers Danko Jones' seventh record, and first in three years, continues to be completely devoted to old school, loud n' proud rock n' roll. Fire Music doesn't leave too many of Danko Jones' usual boxes unchecked; you get beefy riffs galore, huge hooks and, in the case of single Do You Wanna Rock , a metric shit tonne of cowbell. What sets the album apart from recent efforts is its velocity; this record goes for the jugular early and often. The Twisting Knife , Gonna Be A Fight Tonight and Body Bags are a trio of punked-up tracks that don't skimp on speed or energy, all sequenced together on the A-side. The lyrics are as silly as ever, with a couple of eye rollers included ( Getting Into Drugs is particularly sketchy), and the mid-tempo numbers for the most part scratch the same itch as they've been digging at nearly 20 years now, but Fire Music doesn't commit any sin that's too grievous. It doesn't really break any new

Hear Me Out: Who Wants A Grammy Anyway?

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Once regarded as the most prestigious achievement a musician could ever hope for, the Grammys have increasingly become far less coveted, just as the ceremony has become less noble in its intention. While occasionally some trophies get handed out in recognition of a job well done, traditionally it's been far less about artistic merit and much more about perceived popularity (especially in recent years). How else can you explain a world where The Black Eyed Peas have six Grammys and Wu-Tang Clan have none? Look, I'm not just hating on the Grammys here; I used to hate them with a passion, admittedly, but now I just kind of sneer at them from afar with mild disdain. It's a shallow ceremony designed to drive sales, an industry celebrating everything about itself while patting its highest grossing earners on the back and attempting to project the vocation of "musician" as the glitzy, highbrow profession it pretty much universally is not. I know it's not for me,

IN REVIEW: Butch Walker - "Afraid of Ghosts"

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The problem with building your career on writing songs for others is that, too often, you don't get the chance to forge an identity of your own. For Butch Walker (writer of hits for pretty much everybody but himself), this feels exceedingly true with each album he releases. Having spent most of the past fifteen years and change alternating between snotty glam rocker and introspective singer-songwriter, his seventh solo record (after a trio of records with now defunct hair metal revivalist group Marvelous3) sees him firmly back in the latter camp.  Working with Ryan Adams (another fellow who knows a thing or two about criss-crossing between genres), Afraid of Ghosts finds Walker at his most bleak and subdued: so as to say, at his most Ryan Adams-like. Make no mistake, Walker's a talented artist, and there are some good songs here ( Still Drunk is the most effective of the many ballads, while 21+ packs a certain sultry charm).  At the end if its 39 minutes, though, Afraid of G