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It's telling that Nathan Williams, a.k.a. Wavves, is a poor speller. His hazy California pop punk is all about skipping school and riding your bong to the ocean. On the third Wavves full-length, a one-man bedroom experiment blossoms into a real band, with Jay Reatard's feisty backing duo and Modest Mouse's producer beefing up low-fi strumming, smiling melodies and zonked studio whimsy. Songs like "Post Acid" mix slashing riffs and joyful hooks, while "Mickey Mouse" builds an echo cathedral atop what sounds like a loop of the Crystals' "Da Doo Ron Ron." He didn't strain any brain cells on the lyrics, but Williams' "convertible cocoon" is an escape pod, not a think tank.
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In een Amerikaanse Chevy scheur je over de brede en vaak eenzame
snelwegen, die in staten zoals Montana mijlenver alleen maar rechtdoor
gaan, tot aan de horizon. Kleine naamloze nederzettingen, vaak met
slechts enkele huizen, een kroeg en twee kerken, zoeven aan je voorbij.
Een paar honderd kilometer gaat dit zo door en er is weinig om naar uit
te kijken op zo'n interstate. Echter een audio-installatie kan het
moment toch tot iets moois maken. Zo was de tweede plaat van The
Gaslight Anthem net uit, The '59 Sound. Een plaat die een
lange rit helemaal kan opluisteren en waar je 'the American way' in
voelt resoneren.
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In de jaren ’70 en ’80 definieerde Bruce Springsteen muziek voor en vooral over de Amerikaanse werkende klasse. In diezelfde periode uitte Joe Strummer met The Clash kritiek op de Britse samenleving.
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Third album from Springsteen-influenced New Jersey (former) punks.
New Jersey quartet The Gaslight Anthem would be the first to admit that they share more than a home state with Bruce Springsteen. However, there’s nothing wrong with being heavily influenced by another artist so long as you still have something of your own to bring to the table, and on 2008’s superb breakthrough The ’59 Sound, The Gaslight Anthem did indeed bring something. While frontman Brian Fallon’s rugged but sensitive vocals and wordy blue-collar lyricism may have seemed familiar, the fact is that these guys were punks, something that Springsteen never, ever was. Sure, the music was anthemic, but the mix was rattling, rough, raw and thrilling.
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A soundtrack to lift the heaviest of heads from narcotic slumber.
Morning-after electro from a pair of London-based sorts with previous form in underground outfits, the debut album from Walls is the kind of woozy fare designed to soundtrack the haziest of dawns, to lift the heaviest of heads from narcotic slumber. It’s a collection – brief at less than 30 minutes in length – that shifts from fuzzy drones to gentle beats and synths as spied through gauze of stripped circuit boards and old CPUs. But such is its lightness of touch that the listener may struggle to remember any aspect of it once the curtain’s fallen.
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The Welsh rockers introduce a pop immediacy that could propel them into the mainstream.
“This is not the way we planned it.” So reads the first line of this second album from Welsh quintet Kids in Glass Houses. But despite the concession that the future looked radically different during the days before their debut left a considerable dent in the domestic rock scene, this young band can’t be displeased with where they find themselves in 2010. Dirt is poised to take them from support slots with Lostprophets and Paramore to headline performances at the nation’s larger venues.
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