Tag: Forro In The Dark

Wine Lips invite you into their sweltering garage, where you can drink straight fro the bottle.

Every six years or so, Valentine’s Day lands on a Tuesday, and it’s a grand excuse to update and refine the Fight Night playlist, featuring two hours of music about verbal, physical, and emotional aggression. Why go the opposite way? I’m sure those with dates have better things to do than listen to the radio, and those without might appreciate the theme. Tonight’s Final Hour is a replay of tracks from another Final Hour from about a year ago, with all-new live commentary from yours truly.

If the name didn't give it away, there is a very distinct beach slash surf feeling to San Diego's Wavves and their sun-glittered sounds.

If you are of a certain age and exposure to the MTV, you would think that people in Tijuana eat barbecued iguana, but that was just Stan Ridgway and Wall of Voodoo reaching for a cheap rhyme. Polvo takes the song's nervous energy and turns it up a few notches.

Soul jazz ensemble The Greyboy Allstars have been around so long they have grown into their name.

Straight outta Staten Island, the Budos Band has enough energy to power a nuclear submarine for seven months, allowing it to circumnavigate the globe three and a half times.

The chauffeur peered at the rear-view mirror. The scattered reflection from the rain-slicked A7 revealed only headlights, no politely alarming Luxembourg police flashers. The Corniche bulleted down the roadway, the flutter of its diplomatic flags the only sign that it wasn’t standing dead still. Some miles away, in Ettelbruck, the authorities were coming to the conclusion that the altercation at Chez Fred had been a distraction. In the back seat, the jeweler closed the briefcase, satisfied with its contents.

The earth rumbled into an appropriate angle of repose as the bucket wheel ground to a halt. On the ground, the sapper raised an arm to signal to the operator, sitting high above in an air-conditioned cab as disproportionately tiny as a brontosaurus brain. The sounds of Taiwanese ragtime could be heard on the earpiece now that the excavator had stopped digging into the hard Upper Peninsula soil. This machine was capable of extracting tons of copper ore in a single hour, but now it was digging for something far more valuable.

Did Jeff Rosenstock manage to find an unrecorded Ramones song? "Beating My Head Against A Wall" sure sounds like it, and that is 1,000% a compliment.