The day I stop listening to The Pastels is the day I stop listening to music
Give ’em time, I reckon. They’ve got energy, attitude, a spark. Let’s see if they turn into a Savages or a Divorce. I know which side of the line I’ll be cheering from.
Great fucken scream. Matched ably by the great fucken noisescape.
The Shoebox is packed. It’s hot and sweaty to the point where I would have trimmed my eyebrows before I left if I’d known they were going to be this soaked and heavy.
Whirligigs were whirled. Recorders were blown down. Hearts were melted.
Listen to the MySpace first. What are you? A dumbbell?
Start recalling all those best of 2011 forms you’ve already filled out
Orange Juice were Glasgow boys manly enough to admit their feminine side was at least twice as enticing as their male.
Some wonderful abrasive, melodic stuff with lots of killer muted brass and stomach-wobbling guitar noises from the just-formed Nico’s Bike. Female vocals chastise. Female vocals jiggle, with fire and fury. Female vocals make like there was no need to record a bad song no not never no how. I was tipped off to this splenetic […]