Music to Your Ears
By Laura Marrich
A Gingerbread Homecoming—It's been less than a year since the Gingerbread Patriots dusted our desert from their keyboards and moved to Portland, Ore. But since they're so gosh darn sentimental, they couldn't stay away for long. Bless their little indie-pop hearts.
Flyer on the Wall
Some of the fine print says: "That's right. RollerCon, the international all-female roller derby convention, is looking for certified EMTs to volunteer their time and talents this summer, Aug. 8-12, in fabulous Las Vegas, Nev.!" Perks include undying gratitude and a nice little vacation in Vegas (paid for by you, but nice nonetheless). For more information, e-mail email@example.com. (LM)
Say "chick rock" and you die
By Amy Dalness
If there’s one thing The Ettes aren’t, it’s a chick band. While both their lead vocalist and drummer are of the female gender, that doesn’t fit them squarely into the “chick” category, and they’d like you to know it.
Caleb Miles Comes Back
By Marisa Demarco
You would not believe how many bands have named themselves A Murder of Crows. But only one lived in my Walkman throughout early high school until the tape, thin and weary from overplaying, snapped apart one time too many. No amount of scotch tape could aid its redemption. Little did I know this was an early Albuquerque band, around in the late ’80s and early ’90s.
Black Lips Los Valientes Del Mundo Nuevo · Blue Oyster Cult Spectres · Pela Anytown Graffiti
By Jessica Cassyle Carr
In any regular situation, if "live recording" and "garage rock" were uttered in the same sentence, I'd shudder with the conjured mental images of some horrifying Frankenstein made of Kiss and Jet. But this album, released by a fairly reliable label, is an exception. With lo-fi sound quality and elements of psychedelia, it's more like a respectable partnership between The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Velvet Underground. Except this is Black Lips, who are, to make a metaphor (and as their album art might suggest), more like the comedic flesh-eating plant Audrey Jr. from Little Shop of Horrors, just as we are the Seymours, forced to serve our master.
New and Fertile
Young band mines innovation from inexperience
By Marisa Demarco
The guys in The Fertile Crescent don't know they're kind of geniuses. Or maybe they're in disguise as four shy 20-year-olds who mumble a little and say "like" too much. It's almost a shame to let them in on the secret that the music they're making is more innovative and well-constructed than a lot of what's put out by bands who've been on the scene for years and years. Sure hope they won't let it go to their heads.
Alan Jackson • country
By Joshua Lee
As Ludwig von Beethoven once said, “Music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life.” Those words still carry weight, even now: a thousand years later. And you'll find no better example than the incomparable Alan Jackson, whose voice and countenance rival those of the gods, as though he were hewn from the heart of the sun itself. His honky tonk tunes are swords of righteous terror and beauty which melt the eardrums…
Chrome Sparks • electronic, indie pop
By Joshua Lee
So Chrome Sparks apparently has a few hours open in his schedule to visit ABQ—somewhere in between juggling his gajillion other projects and fulfilling his role as busiest spacey electro-pop composer on the planet. New Mexico seems like the perfect place for those wide-open, expansive tunes of his…
Miike Snow • indie, electro-pop
By Monica Schmitt
"I change shapes just to hide in this place, but I'm sure not going to hide from this concert." Ladies and gents, I am happy to report that Miike Snow, the Swedish electro-pop band of your dreams, will be performing at our very own Historic El Rey Theater. Imagine Alt-J and Dan Black created a musically inclined love child…
Andrew Jackson Jihad • folk-punk • Diners • surf, indie rock • Kepi Ghoulie • punk folk
By Peter Karlsen
Once upon a time, back in 2004, in the distant land of Arizona, there was born a folk-punk band by the name of Andrew Jackson Jihad. It was a mouthful, so they decided to go by the acronym AJJ. Then they decided to formally change their name to that. Soon they'll be at the Launchpad. People in this town like to shit on the folk-punkers, but fuck those jerks…
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Alan Jackson • country at Sandia Resort & Casino
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