Music to Your Ears
Romeo Has a Name—At long last, the alibi.com contest to rename three-car garage rockers Romeo Goes to Hell is over. Many, many people chimed in with their two cents (and sometimes drink tickets and bus tokens), but only a handful made it to the final death round. Although no one person technically won, Levi Eleven (you know, frontman of the-band-formerly-known-as-Romeo-Goes-to-Hell and baron von merch of I Heart Machine band merchandise) will generously assemble prize packages for the best suggesters.
Unique local band releases Stonebaby and makes a few friends in the process
A few things run through your mind when you watch Marsupious climb on stage. Namely, why is the drummer building a jungle gym out of his rack mounts? And where's the guitar player?
Flyer on the Wall
Paris is Burning
Savor the smoke-free taste of freedom as Paris rots in Jail this Tuesday, July 3! San Francisco's slice of Americana, Sweet Crude Bill and the Nautical Lighthouse Society, headline with The Ya Ya Boom Project! and The Dirty Novels. Everybody's free to feel good at Burt's Tiki Lounge (21+). (LM)
Load up your iPod with our Frontline Five
In honor of Independence Day, we proudly reflect on the Frontline Five: the top musical acts that have fought for our freedom of speech and expression through music. We also give you their freest of free songs, which we call upon you to download. Wave your rights high!
If you gave a bunch of musicians a crash course on “What Rock Should Sound Like” and then let them make a record, soulless junk like this would result. Eat Me is an unintentional mockery of rock heritage. Eat and drink Manson's record and receive only horrid gas in return. I like a cartoony Marilyn that creeps around on stilts wearing a diaper and declaring himself some kind of deity. That's what I want from my antichrist superstar. If I'm looking for introspection—you know, like how real people do—I'll rustle up a folk singer.
Vinyl & Verses' Hard-Won Birthday
It's not a fairy tale of success, but it's a success just the same
Four years ago, local hip-hop was hard to find. Clubs wouldn't book it. The few crews that existed hadn't yet coalesced into a sturdy scene. "There was no sign of hip-hop anywhere," says Phillip Torres. He wanted to perform, to see his friends on stage and to get paid.