When the St. Johns Bizarre began six years ago, it was a
low-profile street fair with crafts, beer and bands. Today it’s a
slightly higher-profile street fair with more crafts, more beer and rea
Formed: 1994 in San Francisco.
Sounds like: A series of intense couple fights that always end in cuddling.
For fans of: Sonic Youth, Electric Light Orchestra, the Dandy Warhols, Letters to Cle
[FREE HARDCORE] The striking white stallion that adorns the cover of Zero Hour probably wasn’t meant as a sight gag, but it works as one: Palo Verde, you see, is no one-trick pony.
Two decades later, what do you remember about The Golden Girls?
I had to squint, but the Elvis impersonator in the back
row at Sophia’s wedding looked awfully familiar. That forehead. That
weird mouth. Yes, Quentin Tarantino was on The Golden Girls.
It starts like jazz, which I like.
Deer or the Doe knows how to build atmosphere, but it also knows how to thrash as if the better parts of the mid-'90s underground never left. And after that build-up, everything about descriptions gets all Mascis and Bachmann, blasting and rumbling. I like that the never-ending-guitar-solo of a lead jets upward, and I like that it's never allowed to break free...
Dreamboat/Deerhunter Lockett Pundt takes his newly epic show on the road.
[UNCHAINED MELODIES] The idolization of handsome young male musicians is not the sole province of Beatlemania, Tiger Beat magazine
or the Jonas family. Lockett Pundt, Lotus Plaza’s frontman and a
Born: 1941 in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
Sounds like: The most heartfelt, amazing love letter imaginable in a language you probably don’t understand.
For fans of: Aster Aweke, Mulatu Astatke, The Eith
[HEAVY HIP-HOP] Sandpeople’s Iame has
gone through some fascinating changes in the past two years. Physically,
he’s almost unrecognizable, having lost considerable weight after
You’re not rich, but on Kentucky Derby day, you can act like it.
Horse races, like sex, are about mostly
anticipation. And while the Kentucky Derby—like sex—only lasts two
minutes, the elaborate celebrations around racing’s biggest event last
all day. O
This is a second draft. I began this post with a long essay called Why Sandpeople Matters. It talked about race, DIY culture and Portland's reluctance to embrace locally grown hip-hop. I still think there's a piece to be written, but maybe it's bigger than me. I'm no ambassador to the local hip-hop scene. There's plenty I am unaware of and plenty of stuff I just plain don't like. So all I really w...