Sleep with a clear conscience: Sinead O’Connor

Greil Marcus and others writing at the dawn of punk recorded how watching Johnny Rotten was so unsettling that an atmosphere of danger and impending doom would hang over the venue. Sinead O’Connor at the peak of her evanescent stardom in the early nineties had that impact on me. I hadn’t seen her alive —… More Sleep with a clear conscience: Sinead O’Connor

A spoonful of Sugar

Barry Walters on Bob Mould’s greatest record, which Mould played at a recent gig its entirety: Although its critical standing is dwarfed by Hüsker classics like Zen Arcade and New Day Rising, Copper Blue is actually the album where everything came together for this guitarist. It’s his own Nevermind; there’s never a moment where the… More A spoonful of Sugar

Happy Sunday

If I had my druthers I’d buy every one who wanted Shoot Out the Lights and Blood on the Tracks a copy of Womack and Womack’s Love Wars instead.

Singles reviews 2/24

Let me risk mixing metaphors: the quiet erosion of Nicki Minaj’s Jukebox support and stopping the bleeding from the latest embarrassments in the Chris Brown-Rihanna farrago. But as the scores indicate, this is by far the the strongest, most erratic Jukebox week of the year (hi, Cassie!). All scores based on a ten-point scale. Click… More Singles reviews 2/24

Goodbye house, goodbye stairs – Viva Hate

No solo album of Morrissey’s infuriates me like Viva Hate. Fab singles, a spectacular B-side that everyone (rightly) assumes was an A-lister (“Hairdresser on Fire”), marvelous slowburn album tracks (“The Ordinary Boys,” “Break Up the Family”), aptly named, endless epic that does for self-pity what George Harrison did for Krishna in 1973 (“Late Night, Maudlin… More Goodbye house, goodbye stairs – Viva Hate

Mumblin’ and crumblin’ – Lambchop

Yes: Apprehending Mr. M does not take a genius, nor does it take an English degree, nor does it take 180-gram vinyl and an $800 Scandinavian turntable with counterweights made out of rare geodes. What it does take, I think, is patience. I like tarted-up, throat-grabbing music as much as the next frantically inattentive twentysomething.… More Mumblin’ and crumblin’ – Lambchop