You sad, miserable bastard. Look at you. I wish you could see yourself right now. Pick yourself up off the floor, put on some pants and look at yourself in the mirror. No! Put some pants on first. There, that’s better. Now look at yourself, you sad, sad bastard. You…
It’s been four long years since the Baptist Generals released the mope-folk masterpiece No Silver/No Gold, but if singer-songwriter Chris Flemmons is to be believed—and if the new songs we’ve heard are any indication, we really want to believe—the wait for a follow-up might soon be over. “We’re rallying to…
John Stirratt and Patrick Sansone could be the next Simon and Garfunkel. Though based in Chicago, the two men who constitute the Autumn Defense create acoustic guitar-based soft ballads with gorgeous harmonies that elicit the gentle warmth of the California sun. As with the Summer Hymns, one can almost feel…
Dylan was wrong; the times aren’t changing, only repeating. Austin sextet the Black Angels descend from the thirteenth-floor elevators with an alarming “Call to Arms” that links the past to the present through an arsenal of neo-psychedelic sounds. The group’s debut full-length, Passover, connects the current War on Terror to…
A duo of Denton bands will make the arduous trip to, uh, Denton to rock the room at Secret Headquarters. The Grass Fight is a good time for those who like Joy Division but wish they rocked a little harder. Not too much harder, just, ya know, maybe a short-hair…
Hope springs eternal: Yes, the Gypsy Tea Room is closing. No, things don’t look good for Deep Ellum; one problem is most of the poor souls who run clubs—or who have tried to run clubs, or who have tried to open clubs, or who have tried to re-open clubs—don’t own…
The first time I met Amanda Newman was about four months ago, when I attended my first Dallas show in eight years. It was the inaugural event of my Dallas Observer music editorship, which at that point was about two days old. The show was at Club Dada, a FineLine…
Contrary to popular belief, Dick Dale’s sound ranges beyond surf, metal and ’60s hot-rod music. Before he revolutionized electric guitar at the Rendezvous Ballroom in Balboa, California, in the ’50s and ’60s, he discovered how to apply “accentuation of rhythms on guitar” by listening to big-band era jazz drummer Gene…
Believe it or not, here at the Observer we try to research as much as we can about upcoming touring acts, even if that act happens to involve the haggard semi-mook/nu-metal/post-grunge rock of Saliva, who will be performing in Dallas this week. And, as proof that even the most barren…
Stoned Ranger and Defensive Listening made it through another mostly great We Shot JR showcase with their anonymity intact. But the notoriously picky DFW music bloggers revealed themselves to be suckers for a gimmick. War Wizards—something of an underground supergroup with Wanz Dover, Lars Larsen and Shawn Mauck—were compelling yet…
“I ask myself every day if depression is necessary for creativity,” says Mark Linkous, sounding characteristically withdrawn, speaking from his home atop the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. The founder and driving force behind Sparklehorse, Linkous is a well-known loner with a history of substance abuse who has managed to…
The sound of Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter hits like a cold front on the first day of winter. As guitarist Phil Wandscher’s blustery leads swirl through the desolate streets, echoing off the brick and stinging your cheeks, Sykes’ weary voice hangs heavy in the air, each syllable dissipating…
The “queen of MySpace” has finally landed stateside, giving hope to every bedroom MC this side of Lubbock. But what really drives Allen’s success—and it seems to be overlooked—is not her number of “friends” but her partners in production, Futurecut and Mark Ronson. Allen’s lyrics are no doubt “cheeky”; her…
The Postmarks make music that, at times, is part Burt Bacharach, part Beach Boys and part folk rock. That’s an odd blend in 2007, but this emo-pop trio knows how to bring it together. The Postmarks have raised their profile during the past year. They’re charting in the U.S. and…
The DIY success of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was surely a promising story way back in 2005. Garage bands and dudes with nasally voices regained faith in the can-do spirit that so often is squashed. Some Loud Thunder sees Clap Your Hands remaining label-less and should have record labels…
Scott Loomer, namesake and leader of this Canadian sextet, is a songwriter of unqualified vision. Like Jay Farrar, Jeff Tweedy and Blue Rodeo’s Greg Keelor, Loomer is capable of encapsulating raw feeling and humor by way of cryptic lyrics and detailed musical arrangements. Songs of the Wild West Island, the…
For a whole subsection of America’s young and young at heart, sad-puppy punk rock is more than an interest, it’s a way of life. Which is why hilario-funtimes punk rock, like that of the Queers, is always a very welcome counterpoint response. Friends, booze, sex: The pleasures of the simple…
The Great Black Tie Dynasty Debate continues to rage through the hallways of the Dallas Observer, echoing over the clack of keyboards and cursing editors. On one side, BTD proponents praise the quartet’s sexy, moody oeuvre, while the anti-BTD contingent bad-mouths them as derivative Interpol clones. To the haters, I…
In eyelinered Chicago goth-pop wannabes Kill Hannah’s sort-of hit “Kennedy,” singer Mat Devine brags that he wants to be a Kennedy and, after living fast and breaking hearts and kissing the girls of centerfolds on the tongue, die young. We don’t really believe Devine, because two songs later on that…
Finding quality among the seemingly endless parade of faceless emo bands parading their oh-so-hip bangs and pronounced use of eyeliner is not an easy task. Oakland’s The Matches display, for better and worse, the continued influence of Green Day on today’s poppy punksters (or would that be punky popsters?). Decomposer,…
While Gram Parsons’ legendary mystique has earned him most of the credit, it seems as if every long-haired hippie in California was reconnecting with their roots in the summer of ’69: Roger McGuinn and the Byrds followed the influential Sweetheart of the Rodeo LP with the country-tinged Ballad of Easy…
“Electronica with mistakes,” says Dosh, describing his own music. “I record everything and then take an accident and turn it into a song.” His full name is Martin Dosh, but ever since his 2003 debut, he’s favored simply his family name. On tour in support of his fine third effort,…
