Isn’t it about time that we feel bad about masturbating again? I mean, other than a few edging holdouts, how long has it been since jacking was taboo? That yanking your plug or flicking your bean or however you want to do it could risk a judgmental side eye and rejecting shake of the head … Continue reading
At some point in the middle of “Tupelo” on the second night of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ two-nights-only stint in London for their Wild God Europe and UK tour, I thought Elvis Presley would rise from the dead, jumpsuit and all, to appear onstage at the cavernous O2 arena. Quite a feat given … Continue reading
Xiu Xiu is fun. I know fun isn’t likely the right word; playful is closer. Yet, I enjoy the cognitive dissonance of using the word “fun” to describe a band that has, since its aughts genesis, plumbed the depths of trauma, depravity, shame basements, and the morbid mixture of sheer abrasiveness and tightly wound near-nervous … Continue reading
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ new album Wild God opens like a kick to the head. Not exactly like Nick’s pointy-toed Chelsea boot punt to an audience member’s face as captured in The Birthday Party’s 1982 live performance of “Release the Bats” but not as far from it as one might expect for a … Continue reading
“Don’t wanna be a bossy bottom!” This line from the song “Bow Tie Eater” made me cackle during my first listen to Geneva Jacuzzi’s new album Triple Fire, released by Dais Records. It wasn’t just the reference to a power-tripping sub or the welcome shock of needy “Give me love” desire and in-heat grooves after … Continue reading
Chrystabell and David Lynch’s new album Cellophane Memories may be one of the worst albums I’ve ever heard—or the best. Either way, as a work of art, I’m certain it’s some sort of genius. I make the distinction here between an album and art because Cellophane Memories, released last week by Sacred Bones Records, is … Continue reading
What is the last really good song about eating box? No, not Harry Styles’s “Watermelon Sugar,” the earworm bane of every easy listening-scored shopping experience. For me, I have to reach way back to those sleazy 1990s for some cunnilingus classics: Madonna’s “Where Life Begins” and Lil’ Kim’s “Not Tonight.” Yet, while Kim’s insistent chorus, … Continue reading
I’ve only visited Los Angeles once despite frequently returning to its sprawling noir imagery in some of my most beloved films and music. Yet, none of these—not even our Lady of Southern California, Lana Del Rey, or the master of its surreal seedy underbelly, David Lynch—has ever truly articulated my experience of contemporary Los Angeles. … Continue reading
At the end of January, I found salvation. In a stuffy concert venue basement. From an Internet-ordained reverend. But those details don’t make my newfound (ok, and temporary) deliverance by Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter, formerly known as Lingua Ignota, any less meaningful. It was specifically her rendition of the hymn “Give Me Jesus” that did … Continue reading
Every time a paparazzi photograph of Lana Del Rey leaving the mega-church Churchome in Beverly Hills made its way across my Instagram scroll, I rolled my eyes. Not because I was clutching my pearls at Churchome pastor Judah Smith’s previous homophobic comments (unsurprising). Not because it’s also Justin Bieber’s post-Hillsong refuge (who cares). Not even … Continue reading