Well, last week, Everett True tackled the Dirty Jeans comp as well – and GUESS WHAT? Though his was inevitably meatier with context, our two reviews basically agree on two points – a) roughly a third of that collection is dry derivative shit, and b) there just weren’t enough chicks represented. So, guys, I’m pleased […]
Hey, Mr. Malkmus. I don’t know if you read these reviews anymore – what with you being a cultural icon and thus guaranteed a decent chunk of moolah – but I’m Lee Adcock. You haven’t heard of me yet, and that’s OK – I’m a new, bumbling writer/critic and I tend to always screw up […]
It costs the same as 3 issues of Mojo, or 6 weeks’ worth of NME’s, and it’s a dozen times more likely to change your life.
“Dude! Oh my god! Urge Overkill’s here! They’re in the parking lot! They’re all out there! Come meet them!”
It’s not easy to draw blood from a glass of warm milk.
While Pitchfork may be invaluable as an archive, it is worse than useless as a forum for insight and argument
Ultimately, Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer is a collection of songs about the struggle to find one’s place in the world — the isolated self-destruction that can occur when someone is rejected by their community.
Before the little bird goes south or Some Ordinary Vision: a love letter to Iowa’s Poison Control Center (the band)
How come nobody told me about them before? What the hell?!?! WHO IS IN CHARGE HERE?!?!?
They seem like hipsters to me (without any added pejorative). Would that be correct?
Stuck with powerful sexual impulses, I convinced myself that to act on them was disrespectful and cheap.