Editor at Under the Radar magazine. Contributor to MTV Iggy, eMusic, Nylon, Filter, Relevant, Paste, and more. Not Hip. Likes catsup and pie. Great. Now we have nothing left to discuss on the second date.
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Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Recent Mercury Prize winners Alt-J don’t skimp on the weird. Their offbeat debut An Awesome Wave skitters across genres—a jittery wash of soulful groves, a cappella harmonies, and soaring piano and guitar lines colliding with pop culture references ‘a plenty. The assemblage of these elements seems to beg the question: What is this? Lit pop? (The album title is a reference to American Psycho.) Art rock? (Three-fourths of the band studied art at university.) Radiohead 2.0? (The band counts Thom Yorke as a major influence.) Who knows? Under the Radar caught up with keyboardist Gus Unger-Hamilton who told us about living life as Mac people, why they don’t feel bad about borrowing from other artists, and why it’s important to name the baby.
We also later caught up with band member Joe Newman shortly after their Mercury Prize win. (via Alt-J: Fractal Rock | Under The Radar)
Nigel Godrich-lead band Ultraísta took the stage at the Echoplex on Friday night to cheers. “We haven’t even played a note yet,” joked Godrich. “We might be terrible. We hope we’re not.” (via Ultraísta at The Echoplex in Echo Park, CA | Under The Radar)
Ultraísta is spearheaded by producer Nigel Godrich, and the building blocks of the project’s self-titled debut are what we’ve come to expect from Radiohead’s unofficial sixth member. (Read More)
What better way to say, “I understand your ennui” than via cover song? Kinda like a birthday card that reminds you of your impending demise, covering a sad song can either be a killjoy, or evidence of a slyly perverse humor. For the final entry (for now anyway) in our ongoing “Cover Me” series, we took a look at our favorite Smiths and Morrissey covers. Check out our top ten favorite tributes to the maudlin musicians.
True Tales of the Coachella Curmudgeon
Part two: In Which Our Hero Frees The Damsel In Distress
“Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?” asked my friend, as I scrambled into his car at 3:30am. In respect to the lineup—which was far and beyond the strongest of the three-day festival, let’s get the “curmudgeon” part of this review out of the way first. Pro-tip: If you drive to the festival, double check the status of your parking lot. As learned the hard way, being waved into a lot, and into a parking space isn’t an assurance that your car will be there when you return. Nor should you be comforted by the complete lack of “hey idiot, we’re going to tow your car”-style signs. And if you are so lucky as to find your car is missing from the lot at 1 am, do not expect much help from the security guards—none who will know what company might have towed your car, or how to go about obtaining said information. (Or for that matter, how to get to any lot on the festival grounds.) In fact, just take it in stride that you will be misdirected a multitude of times during your misadventure. On the bright side, if you do find a friend willing to peel himself out of his warm hotel room in the middle of the night to save your sorry butt, you will be given a ride by security—off the Coachella property to a dark shopping center where if you are raped, maimed, or killed, the festival won’t be liable. GO TEAM!
But enough of that. Let’s talk about the rock. (via Coachella Recap Day 2: Radiohead, Andrew Bird, tUnE-yArDs, Destroyer and More | Under The Radar)
Radiohead, as we know it, is dead. The English quintet that blossomed from early ’90s rock poster children to new century electro weirdos, has returned after four years in the studio with The King of Limbs, their eight full-length. But rather than shake up fans by delivering either a truly terrible album or an innovative collection (or even a terribly innovative collection), we’ve been given a standard workhorse album—eight songs of expert, paint-by-numbers Radioheadness. Fourteen years later and the entirety of Ok Computer still sounds fresh and jarring, Kid A’s “Idioteque” sounds downright punk, and even the self-deprecating ennui of Pablo Honey’s “Creep” has aged well. But after a few spins of The King of Limbs, it’s difficult to tell where the album’s eight songs begin and end, let alone recall individual characteristics.
Marianne Tatom Letts sets out to do the impossible—find a larger structure in Radiohead’s enigmatic mess. Instrumentally, she’s spot on, tonally dissecting each track of Kid A and Amnesiac with a surgeon’s precision—even if the details will probably escape all but her fellow music scholars.