A crawl through the crunch of synthetic insects underfoot and tomblike echoes of the claustrophobic deep, My Little Droney is an uneasy portrait of subtle horror.
Without playing for shock value, The Devil’s Blood weave a smoky cloak of cloven hoof and hook-driven rock ‘n’ roll.
Washington D.C.‘s The Opposite Sex return with a dynamic EP, Live And Burn.
Blacklist’s medium is a message not only of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, but of geo-politics, socio-cultural dynamics, and revolt.
Destiny, Tamaryn, Zohra, Anastasia: New York City’s rising coven of seductive sirens, ladies of the new church of post-apocalyptic song.
This post-Christmas fix of the New York Dolls live at The Fillmore might just be the best show I’ve seen them play since the 2004 reunion.
Metronome The City is a rare find: a band able to maintain a unified sound whilst jumping between disparate genres and tempos without missing a beat.
The set focuses on analogue electronic music with the requirement that it be synthetic yet organic and created through a symbiotic relationship between man and machine.
With the staccato surge and somber vocalizing of DAF, the distorted synthetic soundscapes of Dirk Ivens’ eeriest work, and the industrial strength of The Young Gods, Martial Canterel’s Refuge Underneath is a bleak intellectual exercise in the dark and danceable.
Creeping forward whilst changing form and focus since the turn of the century, The Funeral Crashers have become a mainstay of New York City’s fledgling “new dark rock scene.” A new appreciation for The Crashers grew after immersing myself in their first full-length, so I decided to fill in the blanks through an interview.
Despite a focus on the weighty and the wistful, the Opposite Sex’s debut full-length still has a vibrant violence that makes the band’s post-punk stylings so intriguing.
For the seventh anniversary of New York City’s renowned and resplendent roving dance party, Omaha’s own were the perfect addition to an eclectic night of rock ‘n’ roll depravity.
Over the course of an evening, in bathroom lines and at bars, I tracked down P.H. Lovecraft, singer for the Funeral Crashers, Peter Mavrogeorgis, singer for the Bellmer Dolls, and Josh Strawn, singer for Blacklist, to see if they believed in the existence of a burgeoning NYC dark rock scene.
The sheer live intensity of Dir en grey and the band’s effusive, excessively adoring fans made their sold-out show last Saturday quite an engaging spectacle.
A riveting show is rare, and I can count on one hand the number of times that I’ve been truly engaged by the live performance of a band I’ve never heard before.
The beauty of this compilation has been its role in introducing me to so much new and cutting edge music—spare synths that suck you in, electric guitars that slice and aurally eviscerate—this is a record that begs to be listened to alone, in the dark.
Although I was only able to make it to the second day of Drop Dead Festival IV, I still managed to catch some captivating sets.
While Faster Pussycat emerged from the much-maligned Los Angeles hair/sleaze/pop metal scene of the mid-1980s, a lot has changed since then.
The most vital show I’ve seen recently was not a long-awaited re-appearance of yet another 1980’s luminary, but an evening with two local bands, BELL HOLLOW and BLACKLIST.
While JAY-Z’s 40/40 Club is not my usual haunt, I decided to go there after being invited to the “Suiting Up” fundraiser, for the good cause (and the free booze).
With a sweeping silver mane that would be better suited to an aging rockstar rather than a prime minister, JUNICHIRO KOIZUMI is not only the most powerful man in Japan, but also a rock ‘n’ roll obsessive.
While Corvette made a successful return to the spotlight in 2001, she has only recently released her first new material in decades on the LP Back to Detroit. Now playing as NIKKI CORVETTE AND THE STINGRAYS, she and her band floored me on the Brooklyn stop of their recent promotional tour.
It was a rockabilly revival of religious proportions as the hip-swiveling prophet of HEAVY TRASH, JON SPENCER, testified his way to sweet salvation for the Dutch crowd.
I was ecstatic to learn that the guys had decided on a whim to get together without the backing of an album and tour the USA.
I couldn’t have asked for a better first show at South-by-Southwest.
For the second part of their first ever American tour, Japanese Visual Kei band D’ESPAIRS RAY returned to New York City to play an exhilarating show at Avalon.
The President’s Day Motherf*cker bash, featuring a phenomenal performance by the NEW YORK DOLLS, was a total glam rock O.D.
Wherever there’s any dark band reunion that older folks may dismiss as a money-making scheme, you’ll find me.
The band’s mix of humor and razor wit with the dirtiest disco, funk, and soul is backed up by tight chops and a winning, completely unpretentious stage presence.
There is a great untold history of eyebrow-less people in rock ‘n’ roll, and it’s time that their hairless brow bones were noticed.
What I find interesting is that in the Visual Kei scene the ‘rules and regulations’ that bind American bands today are seemingly nonexistent.
One wouldn’t usually associate Christmas with JOHN WATERS, the reigning king of filthy films.
GWEN STEFANI, perhaps unwittingly, is perpetuating the idea of Japanese women as silent, coy playthings, while she preaches her own message of non-conformist, feminist fun.
Oh. My. God. I have seen the future of electro and it looks good.
The venue was dark upon arrival, and a subdued cello-driven piece played softly in the background. Concertgoers were hushed, some sitting – the whole scene giving the impression of an aged vampire’s study.
The second and final part of my Halloweekend was quite different from Mofo. While Mofo satisfied my glam rock side, the Drop Dead Festival appeased my deathrock side.