Noise is not for everybody.
Some people hear a jackhammer on the street corner and promptly cover their ears; others hear a subsonic melody and random harmonic movement in the staccato repetition of mechanized machinery.
“Industrial music” is the umbrella term used to describe artists who eschew acoustic or organic instrumentation for equipment like samplers, sequencers, and the odd chunk of found metal. Vocals aren’t so much sung as spoken or bleated repeatedly as if coming from a mi
So good, its bano--isn't that the slogan?
There's no shame in the occasional trip to Taco Bueno. Hard to resist the convenience and the colorful signage. Besides, if Dean Fearing can take guests to Primo's--only a few steps up--the rest of us are welcome to pick up fast food.
But (and there's always a 'but' in this column), Taco Bueno's beef creations are relentless, throwing vaguely Southwestern spices against your palate, supported by a heavy phalanx of salt. To make matters worse, the ba
David Dennard sends along the sad news today: David Hill, guitarist and singer in seminal Dallas new-wave band N.C.M., died at 4:30 this morning after a bout with liver cancer. In the photo above, that's Hill at far left, along with Neal Caldwell and, at the drums, Randy Caldwell. Dennard has known Hill since the 1960s, when Dennard was in the Novas and Hill was playing in the competing Sensations. And only recently, they'd begun playing again in Jackpot!, though Hill -- "a recluse," Dennard say
David Dennard sends along the sad news today: David Hill (pictured right), guitarist and singer in seminal Dallas new-wave band N.C.M.,
died at 4:30 this morning after a bout with liver cancer. Dennard has known Hill since the 1960s, when
Dennard was in the Novas and Hill was playing in the competing
Sensations. And only recently, they'd begun playing again in Jackpot!,
though Hill -- "a recluse," Dennard says, who didn't have a Social
Security number or driver's license or bank account -- was r
Patrick MichelsRevisit your old grade school or the patch of neighborhood grass where you played football as a kid and you'll likely find the once-vast expanses, um, seriously shrunken.Maybe it's the workings of global warming. Or perhaps the earth contracts naturally as it spins through space--I don't know. But the same force clearly affects McDonald's Big Mac. I mean, decades ago this was a daunting, dripping monster of a sandwich. When I ordered one over the weekend for the first time since..
Many of them were tucked away in suburban strip malls, their storefronts always the black sheep of the retail family. They were usually owned by a single lifelong music fan, someone who relished the opportunity to dog-paddle in the eye of the pop culture hurricane. Sometimes they smelled like incense or cigarette smoke. You could hear the music coming out from 100 yards away.
Most of the formative moments of my life happened inside a record store. My grandfather bought my first album, Sgt. Pepp
