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It’s a rare thing to find good indie these days. I mean, I should probably qualify. Without getting into the ins and outs of what indie may or may not have used to mean, it’s common knowledge that indie is a term that whilst flawed and incredibly general, ensures that anyone you mention it to...

Washed Out is the solo project of multi instrumentalist Ernest Greene, and boy, did he pick a suitable name for himself. Washed Out is exactly the moniker that should be accompanying these blissfully lazy and chilled out slivers. Lasting a smudge under 20 minutes, High Times is a wonderfully hazy lull into Winter evenings with...

The first thing we all need to do is concede that this is not going to be The Blue Album or Pinkerton. They were a different band back then and their lives have changed; which translates as “they’re famous and getting laid now, and have stopped doing (insert toxic substance here)”. The second...

London four piece (no kidding) Portico Quartet were first nudged into the spotlight last year, with “Knee Deep In The North Sea” earning a Mercury Music Prize nomination. It was chipper, optimistic sounding jazz, but safe jazz. No Herbie Hancock style time changes or ten minute long freakouts À la Bitches Brew. It was very...

Black Metal enjoys where it is. It relishes in the comfort of it’s clichés and stereotype. Anything that shows a clear progression or digression from the original blueprint is almost instantly chastised as untrue and “false”. But that’s exactly why it’s a dying form of music. Like a primitive beast being ousted from existence by...

Have you ever listened to Phish? I mean, really. Like, earnestly given them a chance out of the white-hat, petuli pit-stained, VW gas puke, hemp-strewn dread twirling Gaia of the Midwest giving birth to soy abortions at the apex of the third two-hour jug flute trampoline jam on the second day of the twilight of...

If you haven’t seen the Rival Sons live you need to find their next tour date within three states of you, shake down your deadbeat friends for cash, and hit the road. Listening to Rival Son’s debut Before The Fire once you’ve seen them live is a completely different and more cerebral experience. The live...

Quick psychological study: think about yourself when you were 18-years-old; now think about yourself now. Scary right? My first thoughts, in no particular order are, ‘dude, you need to say sorry for that’, ‘do you think this is making your grandparents proud?’ and ‘what a goddamn shitbag’. I do not want anything...

Here’s to fuck. Here’s to fucking. The party marked by crowbars, PCP and schoolgirl piss. A frenzy, not so furious as fucking mean. With dueling hardons suffering an Indigo child knee deep in broken teeth howling “SHIVA, COME!” “Burn my misguided empathies.” Good time Lacy, 213. A heart kept for days in the dark, rotting summer. Female screams make it easy....

There’s something beautiful and incomprehensible about experiencing someone as they put the mastery of their craft out on display. Like literally, as hard as you try to figure the shit out; you can’t help but find yourself in awe, ignoring your own logic and reason, staring, like a guy on mushrooms. Michael Jackson’s ability to...

I needed a day off from guitarists who squeeze into tight black jeans. From lead singers wearing clever, size-too-small, t-shirts that I don’t understand. From drummers who look like their last hair cut was collaboration between Robert Smith and Flock of Seagulls lead Mike Score. More over, I needed a break...

Folk rock certainly sees its waves of popularity, but one of the most endearing things about Old Canes’ new album Feral Harmonic is its irreverence for mainstream demands. Despite its noticeably catchy progressions, Feral Harmonic is not attempting to be on the radio or to make you hum melodies all day long, it just...