Photo by Amanda Hatfield. I’ve been meaning to write a live review for a while, but the whole process always intimidates me. For one, I’m not a photographer. And two, I’m never sure if anyone cares for my account of a gig. But last night, flushed and pseudo-drunk (I’d only had ginger beer, but I […]
Future music fans will look back on this era and wonder what our fucking problem was. By then all the derivative filler & trustfund-funded garbage clogging up our ears will have disappeared and only the great stuff will be left. There’s so much of it, an embarrassment of riches compared to, say, 1995, or […]
For an entity as dependently freewheeling as Pere Ubu, I shouldn’t have to say much. Of course this new LP is great. Better, I’d venture to say, than last year’s Re-mit, another latter-day release from a renowned cult institution. I mean, there’s a clarinetist on board now. You remember what I said about clarinet solos? […]
Man, what a crazy goddamned year. Not the music, the music was great.
I use the word blast. I refer to the bursts of clarion-call brass that punctuate this uplifting, insurgent noise. I refer to the chiding, aware vocals.
The extra reading is well worth your time. I’m way more entertaining than I need to be, given the subject matter.
It starts out in the world of Sonic Youth — a tinny, anemic charming version of SY — before shooting off in the direction of Sun City Girls, Minutemen rants with Pere Ubu paranoia
I kneel and genuflect before the first two Pere Ubu albums and the handful of singles surrounding it, but I think this may be the greatest Pere Ubu album ever made.
Animal Collective was like if a 10-year-old made a batch of E and forced you to take it even though you wanted to take a nap instead.
The fantasy world that David Thomas inhabits reeks of privilege and conceit. Perhaps I expected a bit more intelligence, a bit more individuality, a bit more adventurousness to his thinking. Then again, he is a white middle-class American male. We can’t expect too much.