Bacdafucup the Onyx is herrrrrre! Onyx are the second most underrated rap group of the 90s (Above the Law is the first, ironically given the title of this new Onyx joint). "Slam" got a lot of play back in 1993/94, but their next two albums, All We Got Iz Us (1995) and Shut 'Em Down (1998) only made a minor dent in the public's consciousness, in spite of selling reasonably well in the underground. Onyx came back last year with the pretty brilliant Wakedafucup but - you spotting a trend here? - it got zero traction or even acknowledgement.
Undeterred, Sticky Fingaz and Fredro Starr are back with a new EP, Against All Authorities, which dropped yesterday. "Fuck the Law" is another zeitgeist-repping anti-establishment track, which should now be pretty familiar, but Sticky and Fredro have always gotten by on bristling energy and sheer force of personality, both of which are in abundance here.
This being Cinco de Mayo I simultaneously regret both my sleep-deprived inability to muster the wherewithal to think of anything properly Mexican to contribute while also lamenting my compelling need to post something this "almost but not quite". Whatever, this is about as authentically Hispanic as any Tucson band springing forth whole cloth from the forehead of Giant Sand like a cross between Zeus and Gizmo can expect to be. Ladies and gentlemen, the new Calexico.
For some, this remix by PC Music's Danny L. Harle will conjure up unpleasant memories of early 90's rave, particularly the first two Prodigy albums. For the rest of us that recall the rave scene as generating some historically significant music and not just being an incessant series of "James Brown Is Dead" clones, this "Come To Your Senses" rework is a welcome panacea to the dominance of the moody, tone poem art scene that dominates modern electronic music. I enjoy a little cerebral techno as much as the next guy, but it sometimes seems like the dancefloor has been altogether ceded to the hip hop/top 40 community.
It took 20 years, but the girl punk, not-quite-riot-grrl-but-right-there-on-the-fringes sound of female-driven, Pacific Northwest alt-rock circa 1992 has finally made its way to Sweden. "Reload/Recharge" has basically zero influences outside the brackets of 1988-1992, but it's all the better song for it, being a legitimately catchy tune making full use of a pre-existing template. If Belly staged a reunion they most likely couldn't come up with new material as compelling as what Feathered Arms have achieved here in their infancy.
"Psychic Trauma" doesn't sound like anything you haven't already heard, but that's primarily because the component sounds are so familiar: garage rock, noise... and post-punk? You don't see the latter thrown into the mix that often, at least not successfully, but damned if Cloud Nothings don't pull it off. I'm a root-for-the-underdog kinda guy so I'm not necessarily pulling for Here and Nowhere Else to come off as a top 10 album at the end of 2014 - Christ knows they earned a lifetime's supply of accolades for 2012's (admittedly glorious) Attack on Memory - but it's good to hear the band haven't lost a step nonetheless.
I can't figure out what the fuck the stilted, pseudo-rap singing on "Full Metal Jacket" reminds me of, but this song is all about that filthy ass beat. I could use another drop or two like the one around the 2:30 mark, though. In fact, this shit is just way too short, the type of hypnotic drone-funk that should theoretically just be getting started around seven minutes in, and instead we get an unceremonious (rather awkward, really) edit just after the 3:00 mark. Fuck you, Wild Highways, almost didn't post your ass.
This one has been kicking around a few weeks but I can't let it slip through the cracks. The 90's female singing style has been heavily in vogue for at least a year now, but Paris XY flip the script a little bit, never really delving into the expected modern rock but also proving too restless to adhere to the new wave schtick which still hasn't gotten its overdue backlash. "The Return" percolates along menacingly for the first few minutes before escalating into a filthy update on old skool rave... and no bullshit EDM in sight! Yep, what this track almost gets wrong - sidestepping disaster only at the last second - is every bit as important as what it emphatically gets right.
Garage punk - done well - is a style that never entirely goes out of style, though it obviously ebbs and flows as oversaturation dictates. Well, shit, The Coathangers happen to be from Atlanta, home of OG garage punkers the Black Lips, so they're fighting an uphill battle within their own local scene, let alone an international one.
Fortunately they distinguish themselves by employing those choppy, reed-thin 80's riffs rather than laying on the overdrive and fuzz tones. It'll do.
[EDIT 2/26/14: well that was quick... updating with the official music video, featuring Mastodon for some insane reason]:
I can't say that 1983's Infidels was my first exposure to Dylan - I'd probably heard a few of his vintage tunes in passing as my parents partied on the weekends - but MTV used to play the shit out of "Jokerman" and "Sweetheart Like You" so this was the first of the man's material that stuck to my impressionable dome at the time.
I still don't frequently listen to anything else off of the LP except those two tracks, but I've always thought that the record as a whole captured some of Mark Knopfler's most tasteful playing. This Built to Spill cover loses those clean licks but has charms of its own, not the least of which is Doug Martsch's plaintive-yet-enthusiastic singing.
Your first thought might be "this doesn't deviate enough from the M83 template to warrant a side project", but damn if it doesn't deliver the goods. Yay, though White Sea is the "solo" debut of M83's Morgan Kibby, first single "Prague" is prefabbed ear sugar custom built for what's left of modern rock radio... after cleaning up that deceptively vulgar chorus, naturally.
Will you quickly tire of this song after 20-30 spins? Probably. Does that negate the value of those 20-30 spins? Not in the least.
