"I wrote this song 14 years ago,” says Ted Leo, gazing at his tiny audience. “There would be nights that I would look at the setlist and think, ‘I can’t believe I have to do this fucking song again.'” He grimaces. “And then I do, and I think, ‘I’m glad I kept it on the set list.'”
It’s a frigid Saturday night in mid-March, and some of the most popular and beloved figures to ever emerge from the Boston alternative rock music scene — including Belly, Juliana Hatfield, Lemonheads frontman Evan Dando, and Buffalo Tom’s Bill Janovitz — are all under the same roof for the first time in decades to play a fundraiser for the American Civil Liberties Union.
In the lobby of Philadelphia’s Hilton Garden Inn, Charlie Lowe, Beach Slang’s tour manager, leans over and adjusts frontman James Alex’s bowtie.
There's a small plastic turtle on the dashboard of Cayetana's old blue van. Her name is Tracy. She wears red glasses and does a little side-to-side dance. The van's name is "Fast Car," after the Tracy Chapman hit that the band cranks every time they head out to the next...
I got married a few years ago. As part of my bachelor party, my kind and thoughtful friends paraded me around the Williamsburg, Brooklyn area — where at the time I lived, and which since 2000 has had the reputation of being the epicenter of the American hipster — while wearing the following lovingly assembled uniform that my friends had gone to great length to purchase from eBay: camouflage parachute pants with tiny America flags emblazoned upon them; a baseball cap sporting the Black Eyed Peas logo; and, the piece de resistance, a 2009 Nickelback tour T-shirt.
I keep going back to the last time I saw Chris Cornell. In light of yesterday’s news, it’s the only comfort I can find.
Even at the height of R.E.M.’s success, guitarist Peter Buck didn’t like to take breaks.
It began the only way it could have begun. It began with “Boxcar.”
As Blake Schwarzenbach sang his immortal rejoinder to the punker-than-thou types that once shunned him in front of the largest audience ever gathered together to see his band, Jawbreaker, a field of people screamed the “1, 2, 3, 4/ Who’s punk? What’s the score?” refrain. When the crowd hit every beat of that chorus like their life depended on it, it seemed that tonight, at least, Jawbreaker had finally hit the big time, 20 yea...
Pig-headed masculinity run amok? America in spiritual crisis? A dying Earth? This sounds like a job for Tori Amos!
Christian Holden will go to epic, often unreasonable lengths to get a good album cover. But they draw the line at getting arrested.
This past Monday, I lightly moderated a conversation between two young, outspoken female musicians that I admire greatly — one a friend of a few years, one I've been a fan of for nearly as long. Both of these women have been on the receiving end of the sort of...
As soon as Japandroids’ Brian King gets to the studio, he starts playing with the cat, and in-between getting his photo taken, he’ll repeatedly walk over to Cooley, lounging in a director’s chair and stroke his fur. King is wearing black pants and a black T-shirt, and shortly after he arrives and pets Cooley, he changes into even tighter black jeans and a black sleeveless T-shirt. Aesthetics are very important to him and his band, as anyone who’s glanced at his album covers can attest.
Last weekend, Parquet Courts played a late-night set at the new Brooklyn venue Villain, one night before their moshpit-inducing afternoon mainstage set at Governors Ball. For the Villain set, Courts’ bassist Sean Yeaton made a bold sartorial choice, donning his finest Slipknot T-shirt.
Stereogum is named from a lyric from the Air song “Radio Number 1,” from the French futurists’ 2001 LP, 10,000 Hz Legend. As such, we are always legally and morally obligated to take any opportunity we get to talk to the duo of Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel, creators of some of the most forward-thinking yet classically minded pop music of the past two decades and the men indirectly responsible for the existence of thousands of hipster toddlers.
Nick Hakim’s sumptuous folk-soul-hop debut, Green Twins, seems destined to be one of those albums you hear everywhere this summer, from the hipper coffeeshops to cookouts to smoke-out and make-out sessions, and beyond