Tag: illuminati hotties

The rich wood floorboards were squeaking under the strain of the game. They had removed their shoes, sketched out the board using a special beeswax that would not damage the finish, and were hopping as lightly as they could, for they respected the solemnity of their location. Nonetheless, the portraits lining the Hall of Admirals in the Museo Maritimo Nacional felt they finally had something to frown about, their serious Chilean brows furrowed in naval concern as they observed the farrier and the anthropologist enjoying their tournament.

The first time you hear Courtney Barnett taking on the Velvet Underground's "I'll Be Your Mirror," what you get is an electrifying shock of recognition: you know that distinctive voice, you know that timeless melody, but what you're hearing is completely new. I must add that there's a VU tribute album every few years, and even the worst of them can be decent, supported by the strength of the songs, but this one (also titled I'll Be Your Mirror) is exceptionally good.

While pop punk takes the energy and intensity of hardcore music and strips away all the negativity and rough edges, this is punk pop, like pouring maple syrup over a big coil of barbed wire.

The Scientists have been conducting their Australian experiments in proto-punk for over four decades now, and it's surprising that they've yet to publish in a peer-reviewed journal.

Sneer at the formula all you like, but putting a strong, dynamic female voice, one which ranges from a husky whisper to an anguished scream, in front of a well-produced guitar-centric combo can sometimes yield unexpectedly unique results.

Sometimes rock and roll seems to get stuck in a rut, but The New Madness bring fresh life to a sound that was old before they were born.

Viagra Boys don’t care what you think… there’s plenty of room for a saxophone and John Prine covers in the backseat of a 21st century punk band.

“Batu means ‘rock’ in Malay” said the photographer, for the third time in a week. The sous-chef ignored the comment, also for the third time, and tried squinting in the darkness at the cribbage board. They had been wise enough to purchase a glow-in-the-dark deck after all these midnight assignments, but had yet to extend their ingenuity to the board. Tapping a foot in irritation, they knocked over the thermos full of hot cocoa set on the steps, and it would have rolled down several long flights of guano-covered stairs had it not been stopped by the tandem bike’s wheel leaning against the statue’s pedestal. Above them, Lord Murugan stared stonily into the dark.

The journey to the island had been placid, cutting through the postcard-blue waters on the kite hydrofoil like an experienced tailor shearing fine cloth for a new suit. Things were a bit more complicated now that they were at the Heraklion Archaeological Museum. The horologist consulted the mission notes, which simply stated “remove all anachronistic displays.” The historian, fearing seasickness, had taken a pill and was now having a comically adverse reaction that rendered them useless for these judgements. A security guard eyed them warily, but perhaps they could turn the situation to their advantage by playing up the effects as excessive inebriation.

The effervescent jangle of German trio A Tale of Golden Keys is intricately engineered to make your ears ask “what was that?”