- Music Reviews
- October 22, 2020
False God (Fangbite Records). Review by Bob Pomeroy.
The mysterious Orville Peck is a modern cowboy marvel, a rare and legendary masked man with a dusty guitar and a lonesome coyote howl.
Hissing steam and spitting fire, the Old 97s chew up the rails and cross-ties by playing country music with a punk attitude.
Taking their name from Australian slang for something not good, The Chats are here to strike fear in the hearts of parents and guidance counselors across the globe.
Not unlike fine Swiss clockwork, the duo that calls themselves Yello have been ticking for four decades without missing a beat.
The Just Joans keep it in the family, and they keep it fairly civil, covering their lethally caustic Scottish wit in a layer of pleasant pop.
Listening to Fantastic Negrito is like lifting the lid on a simmering pot to a wonderfully exotic yet very familiar blend of spices.
Bill Callahan has been wandering the halls of music for quite some time now, his deep voice and aimless arrangements a constant hypnotic presence.
In order to locate the psychedelic rainbow treasure trove that is Joey Joesph, you will have to navigate and defeat countless auto-corrects.
The first wave of UK punk crested and shrank back, but the Mekons are still thrashing and foaming.
The extremely productive Messer Chups hails from St. Petersburg, Russia, and is currently going through some very heavy surf.
It’s been 45 years since Chrissie Hynde initially hit her stride with the Pretenders, and she hasn’t slowed down for anybody since.
Matt Sharp and The Rentals have always attracted a stellar cast of musicians to help them assemble their popsong symphonies.
Billy Martin’s drumming makes me think of oxymorons like “precisely sloppy” and “intensely casual” and “red hot chill out”.
Soul jazz ensemble The Greyboy Allstars have been around so long they have grown into their name.
The world of Khruangbin is made up of velvet sunsets, shimmering dunes, and cool river rocks. There’s also a guitar, some drums, and a bass. And lately, vocals.
Part of what will be known as the Great Australian Psychedelic Expansion, Bananagun is more incense and lava lamps than strobes and smoke machines.
Jade Hairpins don’t care about your repetitive song structures, man. That’s not how you cram five albums’ worth of material into less than forty minutes.
Following a proud tradition of weird Australian pop, The Stroppies give us the sort of incisive harmonic jangle the world needs right now.
There is no shortage of consuming urgency to the sound of this UK trio called simply Shopping.