There are some artists who strictly defy genres. Think of Roy Orbison. Yes, he was one of the famed artists on Sun Records, but what was he really? Was he rockabilly? Pop? Country? Easy Listening? In my mind, the closest term to describe Roy Orbison’s music is the one Bob Dylan coined for him: “cowboy opera.” Orbison’s voice was a river of silk floating through the grit and dry heat cacti. And while I know that M. Ward is no Roy Orbison (although he did …

For most Americans (especially the shiny, young generation which uses the films of Wes Anderson as gateways to the hidden world of art houses), Seu Jorge is primarily thought of as the Brazilian man who did those Bowie covers. And while several of those covers – especially “Rebel, Rebel” – are worth the hype and attention given to them, it’s still a shame that Jorge’s original music isn’t noticed as much as it should be. Perhaps it’s because most music listeners always gravitate …

I love EPs, even though there are so many reasons to hate them. EPs are generally overpriced CDs which contain only one good track. They rarely include rare songs that will never be released again (hellllllooooo box sets). A lot of recent EPs just seem to be remixes, too, and for the most part, I despise remixes of rock songs. Yet lately I’ve gotten two excellent EPs, which remind me of just how exciting a good EP can be. The first one was from …

It’s Billie Holiday’s immortal whisper, which Frank O’Hara eulogized in his poem “The Day Lady Died,” that engraves her signature firmly on the tombstone of musical history. Holiday’s lush, silky, and slightly faded voice drapes itself around the room every time someone puts on one of her records. Indeed, if there had to be one female jazz singer out of the many greats (Ella, Etta and Etta, Sarah, Nina) whom it’s imperative to remember, it would probably have to be Billie Holiday.
Perhaps …

I have compiled a list of several prerequisites for nautical-themed rock. Number one: it should either sound like the ocean, the shore, the wind, or the creaks of a boat. This is hard to do without getting all spiritual and New Age, but it’s still a requisite.
Two: it should be able to catch the mood of pirates. While Johnny Depp is currently the king of pirates, one of my housemates put it correctly when he referred to Tom Waits as “pirate rock.” But I’m going …

Every once in a while you read a review that describes the album in this manner: “it’s like [insert currently trendy band here] meets [incredibly obscure, vanity band] being raped by a bunch of aliens.” You can replace “being raped by a bunch of aliens” with “thrown in a blender” if you prefer your reviewers to be ashamed of their past Star Trek heritage. But either way, I always felt this was a lazy way of reviewing. I mean, who even really knows what …

Lately, there seems to be a formula for making a radio hit album. Give it a Franz Ferdinandesque backbeat, a sprinkle of whiny lyrics, and a shitload of influences that will please the shaggy-haired kid who still buys vinyl (assuming, of course, he even listens to the radio). And then, the final touch to our peachy keen delicious dessert: add a thick layer of shiny, saccharine production that could have been slowly forced out of a Duncan Hines red and white frosting cup.
This is …

Despite the fact that Grant-Lee Phillips is a regularly occurring character on the new CW‘s Gilmore Girls, he appears to remain fairly unknown. Perhaps it’s because Phillips, as Stars Hollow’s town troubadour, never makes out with either Lorelai or Rory Gilmore. Perhaps it’s because he has only really taken the spotlight on the show twice, once when his character challenged the authenticity of a rival troubadour in a town hall meeting, and once in season six’s finale, when he ended up opening …

Not everyone feels as if they must accept death. With such concepts as ashes being launched into space and bodies turned into diamonds, death no longer is a solemn disappearance, but has shifted more into a spooky permanence. A person may be forgotten in the ground, but never when they’re winking expensively on a relative or a lover’s ring finger. There is a human wish for immortality which can surface subconsciously with every written word, recorded song, or brush stroke. There may not …

Last month, Detroit rock supergroup The Raconteurs released their highly anticipated debut album, Broken Boy Soldiers, to widespread public acclaim and a critical response that ranged from middling to ecstatic – including a decidedly middling review from our own Megan Giddings. But for those of us in the know, the idea of a Motor City answer to Blind Faith was never quite as enticing as the hysterical reports from NME had made the Raconteurs’ gestation period sound. That’s because we’d already heard …