Author: Kurt Gottschalk

Arts, Music

The Queen of All She Sees, by Kurt Gottschalk

Rock and Roll Priestess Patti Smith Returns to SummerStage (photo by Marissa Blitz) I don’t know how many times I’ve seen Patti Smith. On the street in the West Village one momentarily thrilling winter afternoon, but besides that, in concert, more than a half dozen times, and most of them outdoors. She gives to New York. The first was at […]

Arts

Music Column: Wiggly Air, by Kurt Gottschalk

On Deck Truth, Prince and the American Way. Last month, the British newspaper The Guardian proudly declared Welcome 2 America the best album of Prince’s last two decades. They’re hardly alone in praising the record Prince shelved in 2010 and, fair enough, Prince never managed to surpass his remarkable album-a-year run from 1984’s Purple Rain to 1988’s Lovesexy. But Prince’s […]

Arts

Big Noise From Canada Sonic ice floes from Fucked Up, Big|Brave and Growler’s Choir, by Kurt Gottschalk

Rock epicness is a tricky proposition. Rock is, or should be, in opposition to all pretension. Epicness, on the other hand, invites pretension. They’re like oil and water—they don’t mix but can be combined, one spreading into a thin, almost invisible film across the other, rendering it unusable. Drinking large amounts of pretentious epic rock can kill you. Rock epicness […]

Arts

Songs from a Dog Eat Ceramic Dog World, by Kurt Gottschalk

Marc Ribot is sick of everyone. Or so it seems. Or artists and activists, anyway. And politicians. And cowboys, although they might be a metaphor for one or more of those other categories. Hope—Ribot’s second release with his quick-quitted trio Ceramic Dog in nine months (out June 25 on Northern Spy) and fifth overall—seems to hold little hope, at least […]

Arts

Music with Kurt: New Songs for Old Wars, by Kurt Gottschalk

Siouxsie and the Banshees released their second record in 1979, after a quick rush to fame and acclaim (in England, anyway) with their first single and debut album the previous year. Join Hands didn’t do much to capitalize on earlier success. The album was tense, unhinged, unnerving, built from the unexpected inspiration of the first world war and informed by […]

Arts

Dry, clean, postpunk wit from South London, by Kurt Gottschalk

The Gang of Four revivalism of the early naughts got one thing terribly wrong. Bloc Party, Franz Ferdinand and their ilk did a reasonable enough job at aping the angular punk-funk sound, but lacked the rigidity. They weren’t fierce. They weren’t disciplined. They seemed to want to have a good time. A generation later, London’s Dry Cleaning is out to […]

Arts

It’s Birthday Ass’s Party, We Just Live in It, by Kurt Gottschalk

Vocalist Priya Carlberg formed Birthday Ass five years ago when she was a student at the New England Conservatory, but the band members’ backgrounds in jazz and improvisation shouldn’t be cause for concern. The sextet has sufficient attitude to back its name, as evidenced by the Bandcamp bundles for their new album which include purple vinyl and band logo undergarments […]

Arts

A Brief Nightmare with Alpha Maid, by Kurt Gottschalk

I’m not sure where Alpha Maid comes from, but it seems like a scary place. Reports say South London, although Godard’s Alphaville seems more likely. I might also have guessed Bristol, where producer/rapper Tricky comes from, but that might be an overgeneralization. Like Tricky, though, or at least Tricky at his best, Alpha Maid make disturbing mixes, putting unadorned vocals […]

Music

No Waves from Ohio | Stella Research Committee packs a brutal throwback punch, by Kurt Gottschalk

Next month will mark the 40th anniversary of the Exploited’s first record, on which they declared (in title and opening track) that “punk’s not dead.” Even at the time it felt a bit defensive but the song coined a slogan that has continually been graffiti’d ever since. Forty years is almost as long as the lives of Darby Crash and […]

Music

1983 … (A Melvins They Should Turn to Be) Gluey Porches, Hostile Takeovers and Working With God

I don’t know what you were doing in 1983 but I know what the Melvins weren’t doing is making this record. “Melvins 1983” is whispered like it’s some kind of incantation, like it’s the name of a beast with no name, like it’s something you’d better be careful not to wish for, like it’s a monkey’s paw keychain. Or at […]