Oops! (the tour)
What a bunch of brats. The new-school art-punks on this traveling package deal'll spit in your eyes as soon as they'll cater to your taste for provocation--too much school, too much underground notoriety and too many inside jokes have made these kids prickly pears at early ages, but there's plenty to appreciate if you don't mind getting your feelings hurt. Or your ears, if you plan on catching Providence, Rhode Island's Lightning Bolt, a bass-and-drums duo that plays stupid-loud noisecore that slowly reveals itself as beatific trance-rock, complete with gorgeous waves of ludicrously dense distortion and spastic, misty mountain drum rolls. And that's it, really. San Diego's The Locust are almost as loud, and they take four or five people to do it. But they do wear hot pants, mesh shirts and bug-eye goggles (last time I saw them, anyway) and play songs about as long as Ramones choruses and as terrifying as that rumor that Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson are hooking up. Don't just watch the band, though: The Locust's shows routinely feature some of the best heckling and counterheckling you'll see this side of a Nas interview. Skin Graft Records notables Arab on Radar will be along, too, as will bonkers B-52's freaks the Rah Bras and the weird drum/organ/puppet duo Quintron & Miss Pussycat, all working hard to alienate your cross-armed ass. Enjoy!
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