Baddest of the Bad (Livers) When the Bad Livers make their return to the Sons of Hermann Hall January 26–“We’re the anti-Springsteen,” says Liver multi-instrumentalist Mark Rubin, referring to the other concert that night–they will bring with them as an opening act a former Dallasite whose presence has long been…
Before 1993, Louis Bickel Jr. had no interest in the music business outside of buying a few CDs and listening to his car radio. He was an upper-class kid from Highland Park whose father is a partner at a prestigious Dallas law firm, a young man with money in his…
Nothing’s shocking Dynamic Domination Stinkbug Last Beat Records There isn’t much difference between heavy metal played with a straight face and heavy metal played for grins–except maybe the joke’s more obvious, even if no one’s chuckling. (How can you laugh at the punch line when you can’t understand the words?)…
Pure pop for then people Hi My Name is Jonny Jonny Polonsky American Recordings The Cult of Ray Frank Black American Recordings Jonny Polonsky, a 22-year-old lo-fi do-it-yourselfer “discovered” by ex-Pixie and idol Frank Black, belongs to that clique of post-indie rockers for whom there exists no genre boundaries and…
Grand slam 1st Tape (no tour) Triple Crown Independent Christina Rees’ voice hides nothing, maybe because she just doesn’t know any better. Whether she’s whispering a threat of violence or howling that she really is going to hold that gun to your head, Rees gives her all in every second…
A wise man–perhaps it was James Brown, or maybe it was Don Rickles–once said that when someone calls you a legend, they just mean you’re looking for work. It’s a title writers give to the has-beens and never-weres, the guys who had their shot, watched it fall just short of…
A desperado for all times The folks about whom Warren Zevon has written for more than two decades are all the same–outlaws with guns blazing, madmen who point those guns at their own heads and pull the triggers. They’re losers and loners, schizophrenics and sociopaths, outcasts and outsiders, deranged men…
Supergroup–it’s rock and roll’s greatest oxymoron, where the sum of one part is greater than the whole. It’s a great theory that always backfires. It’s a term that dates back to 1969, when Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, and Steve Winwood crammed their talent and egos into Blind Faith, which would…
Death row Dead Man Walking Various artists Columbia Records Dead Man Walking is, at its core, a soundtrack meant to accompany the Tim Robbins-directed film about a brutal death-row inmate and his relationship with the nun who would be his savior. But this collection tells its own larger story through…
Who pulled the plug? SuperLectric Adam’s Farm Rainmaker Records In Dallas radio stations’ race to make and break local bands they ignored the first and last go-’round, here’s another obvious addition to their playlists–a group with enough sincerity, smarts, and honest talent to convince even the cynics there’s something there…
There was a time not long ago when Mike Dillon was regarded as a buffoon–a talented musician who hid his prodigious gifts behind bongos, ridiculous antics, and a heroin habit that became the stuff of infamy around Deep Ellum. As frontman for the more-funk-than-metal Billy Goat, Dillon once wasted his…
History lessons The Sons of Hermann Hall in Deep Ellum is fast becoming a Texas-music museum, where the state’s best (and the rest, God bless Tommy Alverson and Ed Burleson forever) are on a permanently rotating display that changes every weekend. The best live-music venue in town–a nearly century-old German…
Wallowing in mud Filth Pig Ministry Warner Bros. Records The appeal of so-called industrial is the noise and nothing beyond it; it’s release without any of the unnecessary tension build-up, metal without the hang-ups but just as death-obsessed, anger and angst between the ironic quotation marks. Al Jourgenson’s genius is…
It’s just before New Year’s Eve, and Roger Morgan is packing up his home, along with boxes of singles and CDs, moving his Unclean Records label from Austin to San Antonio. As career moves go, it’s hardly an obvious one, but Morgan has no problem leaving the town that calls…
Bark at the goon Ozzy Osbourne’s not a man of his word. A couple of years ago, the former Black Sabbath frontman announced his retirement. The world yawned, and it was just as well. His day had come and gone, his demon-metal shtick gone to hell and then some. Whatever…
Howard Stern is more likely to come to Dallas in this lifetime than Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg. It doesn’t matter if a hip-hop act is booked and advertised in this city, there’s no guarantee the show will go on until the act’s on stage–anyone who went to see…
White laugh riot The Undying Breed Riot Squad Last Beat Records There’s no writing off Riot Squad as just another punk band, though they try hard on The Undying Breed to pander to punk cliches and caricatures–drawings of the Anarchy symbol and mohawked men, which ar scattered throughout the disc’s…
Buddy Holly and Willie Nelson could not be more different. Holly was a pop star reared on country, a country boy who craved the big city. Nelson is a country legend influenced by pop, a man more comfortable wrestling in the dirt than dancing on marble. Holly projected the wholesome…
In love alone 60 Watt Silver Lining Mark Eitzel Warner Bros. Records Mark Eitzel, who carved out a career fronting American Music Club as a post-punk lounge singer with a broken heart of gold, finds romance in a rainy day and heartbreak in the sunshine. He mopes, whines, begs, cries,…
It comes in cycles, this “year-in-music” stuff, and 1995 had the misfortune of following one of the most dramatic years in a long time, when such rock monoliths as Pink Floyd, the Eagles, and the Rolling Stones broke box-office records, while a disillusioned youth market shouted out, “Who killed Kurt…
Happy blew year A more overrated holiday you won’t find, when the whole world becomes one sloppy-drunk frat party. Call me old-fashioned, but if someone’s gonna vomit on me, I’d prefer to know them–or at least be sleeping with them. While I can’t think of anything better than bidding farewell…
The rock and roll made in 1995 leaves in its wake a noxious odor (which might be coming from sweaty Blues Traveler John Popper) that will surely hang over 1996 like a black cloud. The bands that will ultimately represent 1995–the superstars and chart-toppers, the major-label success stories and indie-label…
