Tag: Mariachi El Bronx

There are several sounds that are most definitely British, and with their clear soaring female vocals and intimate indie pop sensibility, The Catenary Wires are a textbook example of one of them.

Tonight started out with an hour of the sickest music around, which is to say songs about illness, medication, and other health-related issues. The following two hours were the usual incomprehensible mixture of genres and bad attitudes.

Some bands are obscure, others are sporadic, but The Mabuses are downright enigmatic. Their music is hard to describe, and while the word "psychedelic" has become a commonplace and devalued label to put on something these days, in this case it would apply as a feeling of existing in a disjointed but entirely fascinating musical reality rather than a genre.

As individuals, Jay Som and Palehound each have their musical quirks and unique style. Together as Bachelor they plot a strange new course through the realm of dream pop.

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.

Tonight, we have Fruit Salsa! A fresh variety of fruits, from the ordinary to the exotic, is selected and cut up into an hour's worth of delectable desert. Somewhere in there, The Soft Boys give us a live version of a Tin Pan Alley classic.

Sneaks uses electronic layers and a disaffected delivery to create something that lives in the past and in the future and only circumstantially in the present.

Matt Sharp and The Rentals have always attracted a stellar cast of musicians to help them assemble their popsong symphonies.

They had wandered through the town, having left the aquabus in one of the drainage ponds at the I-70 interchange. It had been a dusty drive, and the vehicle certainly could use the soaking. As they wandered through the town’s enormous collection of objects, they felt lilliputian. The dentist rattled the bag of tiles suggestively as they walked past the sign for the World’s Largest Rocking Chair. The typesetter did not hesitate to point out that at 678 inches, it was the tallest chair of any kind in the United States. It was a habit that was both tiresome and instructive. And it never got in the way of a quick game of mahjong.

The usual random process of Lacking Selection has yielded a playlist that will trigger recognition in Nick Lowe fans, without actually playing any Nick Lowe. It also yielded a set in the second hour that went from “Fantastic” to “Impossible”.