Jeff Heiskell Discusses the Judybats’ Exquisite ‘Pain Makes You Beautiful’ at 30
Brisk, dreamy, achingly plaintive: Rarely has such a ghostly character been maintained so steadily, and so well, as on the Judybats’ ephemeral masterpiece.
Brisk, dreamy, achingly plaintive: Rarely has such a ghostly character been maintained so steadily, and so well, as on the Judybats’ ephemeral masterpiece.
For Against’s Coalesced is an undeniably mature work, softer and less angular than prior efforts, and a culmination of everything they were aiming to accomplish.
The Haunted Youth’s Dawn of the Freak sports dream rock veering from thoughtful to Autobahn-kinetic while cultivating a background mood ideal for moping.
Elder rock statesman John Fogerty puts on one of the most rocking, boogying shows this stodgy reviewer has seen in quite some time.
Sobs’ Air Guitar is a jubilant, unapologetic salute to dynamic pop-rock for listeners who prefer their bubblegum with a bit more fortitude and viscosity.
It’s difficult to describe the adrenal-gland rush Ned’s Atomic Dustbin’s Are You Normal? still provides 30 years later – like a WWII fighter strafing helpless civilians below.
Hard to find and largely overlooked, Mary Jean & 9 Others‘ romantic pop innocence outshines some of Marshall Crenshaw’s best-known work. Crenshaw discusses the record.
Thus Love began as a fuzzy, overly goth-influenced band, but they have since polished their messy sound to a confident post-punk sheen on Memorial.
The Reptilian Government possess a rhythmic 1970s funk sensibility more suited to Kool and the Gang than EDM – if Kool featured intricate solos and curated prog-rock aspirations.
dada’s Puzzle remains as intricate and rewarding today as it was then: a universally appealing, type-O album that adults, MTV teens, and rockers could all get behind.
Goon’s Hour of Green Evening is seductive, willowy music with a surreal edge, like Skygreen Leopards’ hallucinatory indie folk, but without the shrill chord changes.
The Shore’s Light Years boasts a seductive intimacy typically reserved for baroque pop, while still flexing its arena-rock Britpop swagger. Too bad nobody ever heard it.