Along with Spinal Tap, Tenacious D (Kyle Gass / Jack Black) pretty much closed the book on metal parody. For Kyle Gass, the next step in the skewering evolution was ‘70s era Southern rock, and the result is the mulleted, wigged, and moonshine-fueled Trainwreck. Formed in 2002 and fronted by Gass (aka Klip Calhoun) and frequent Tenacious D conspirator JR Reed (you might remember him as Lee from the Tenacious D HBO series, immortalized in the Tenacious D song “Lee”), Trainwreck is a loving celebration of bros, leather pants, and machismo. The key to the gimmick is that musically, it works. Loaded with heavy, catchy riffs and sing-a-long anthems, Trainwreck’s debut album The Wreckoning pairs perfectly with a 12 pack of Keystone Light, Kodiak dip, and maybe some bad speed. After a successful run through the Midwest in March, Trainwreck is currently on their second tour of the year, and I sat down for a chat with Kyle Gass before Trainwreck’s gig in Chicago.
Latest Blog Posts
Let’s face it; Buzzcocks were never the most aggro band on the original UK punk scene. Though inspired to form by seeing the decidedly more in-your-face Sex Pistols, while other bands spit hostile epithets about the decay of society or feeling disenfranchised by a monarchist regime, Manchester’s Buzzcocks railed against “Fast Cars”.
So, when paranoia sent lower Manhattan into a brief tumult of panic, it seemed odd to find Buzzcocks at the center of the maelstrom. In the wake of the failed car bomb in Times Square earlier this month, New York City, if the tabloid media is to be believed, has been a bit on edge. Even so, when genial Buzzcocks frontman Pete Shelley was stopped mid-song during the band’s set last Thursday night at the Fillmore at Irving Plaza with a message from police that a specific car with a specific license plate number had to be moved, it seemed more innocuously surreal than terrifying. And it wasn’t until those leaving the show were led not through the front doors, but instead through a winding hallway and out a side entrance that the notion something really might be wrong set upon the crowd.
The Wave Pictures are what many would call a “hidden gem” of a band: a group who write amazing songs, quietly release brilliant albums heralded by the likes of Daniel Johnston and John Darnielle, but still have gone relatively unnoticed outside of (or, hell, even in) their native UK homeland.
Yet, at the same time, frontman David Tattersall doesn’t seem much to care. Although many of the indie-rock templates are evident in his music—the swaying strings, the group singalongs—what makes the Wave Pictures different is its entirely homespun feel. These songs sound like they were recorded in an open-air kitchen at time, on the porch another. The Wave Pictures pride themselves in not being studio fetishists, letting the songs speak for themselves, and, as such, each album from the Wave Pictures has its own lo-fi charm, a sweet naiveté that almost makes you forget just how well-composed the tracks in question are.
As such, Tattersall is no doubt excited that his band’s two most recent albums—Instant Coffee Baby and If You Leave It Alone—are finally getting wide-spread distribution in America (a first for the band), coupled together in a glorious double-disc package that shows just how fun, crazed, and downright enjoyable the Wave Pictures’ music truly is. o celebrate, Tattersall took on PopMatters’ 20 Questions, and reveals an out-and-out love of D.H. Lawrence and Bukowski, an aversion towards sci-fi, and reveals which Lou Reed album is truly the greatest of all time ...
It was good while it lasted. Maybe too good.
Before Lala, if you read a rave album review of a band you’ve never listened to, you were pretty much at the mercy of the critic. In a pre-Lala age, the only widely-accepted way you could listen to a buzz-worthy album was visit a site like LastFM or Pandora, type in the band’s name and cross your fingers that a song from the album would come up – and hope that track would not be one of those “30 second sampler” tracks. Even as beneficial as these sites are, if you clicked on a band’s “radio station,” you would probably hear one song from the band, then several songs by similar bands. As a result, listeners wind up waiting up to an hour before hearing another track by the band. So, in short, that left you waiting by the radio for a song to come on, just like how your parents used to listen to music.
Despite being a cult band with little commercial impact even to this day, Joy Division has turned out to be a seminal act that has influenced a huge swath of musicians. The perfect demonstration of this point: if you are unfamiliar with the sound of Joy Division, look no further than the hordes of brooding, baritone-voiced post-punk revivalists that have sprung up in the last decade to rectify that. The music press has had a field day plastering these groups with the dreaded “rip-off” tag, whether the accusations are merited or not. Given the negative tone these comparisons are often couched in, it’s unsurprising that the modern bands most often likened to the Joy Division, Interpol and Editors, often spend their interviews refuting assertions that they are heavily influenced by the British quartet. That’s certainly their prerogative, but it does result in odd comments like Editors bassist Russell Leetch saying he doesn’t understand the comparison because Joy Division didn’t sell a lot of records.
Even if one takes the neo-post-punkers at their word, there are still plenty of musicians to be found over the last three decades who will enthusiastically cite Joy Division as an inspiration and influence. Among the most notable: Bloc Party, the Cure, Galaxie 500, Jane’s Addiction, John Frusciante, Moby, Pet Shop Boys, Radiohead, the Smashing Pumpkins, and U2. Few of these avowed disciples are outright stylistically comparable to Joy Division, but in varying quantities they have culled inspiration from Joy Division’s body of work, particularly its melodic basslines, its fractured guitar sounds, and late singer Ian Curtis’ world-weary existential lyrics.