The Pocketbooks

At 8.00 p.m. we quite magically waltzed through the black door in the brick wall. There we were, the Goonite Club, 69 Rosebury Ave, Clerkenwell, London, ECIR4RL, a location that not even MapQuest could find that we reached through a metro station of which no one seemed to be particularly aware. Never mind, we were there, and on time. A muddy hall opened into a dark room with brightish youngish punkish things vaguely rocking out, and a man in a striped shirt shook my hand. “Ian,” he introduced himself, “Shall we have a drink?” Read more

I don’t look forward to dancing in public, but I’m gladly making an exception this Saturday night and there is no wedding reception in sight. James Pants, an Inland Pacific Northwest native and Stones Throw Records artist will be performing his blend of funk, hip hop, and whatever else he feels at Mikey’s Gyros in Moscow at 9pm. Read more

Contrary to what the YouTube post says, this video is not official, and it’s about thirty-million iterations of the same note, anyway. However, it’s a new Thom Yorke song, very much following the path of The Eraser, a record that got by me for about a year, but which accompanies the long Moscow Fall/Winter cycle pretty comprehensively. This song won’t turn you if you’re not already a believer, but as one of the sheep, I find it pretty satisfying.

(via Pitchfork)

-Josh Stevenson writes for Stereopathic and curates the museum of his time via the internet.

SaticoyWinding down the So-Cal vineyard of South Mountain on the way into Ventura, there’s a little village called Saticoy. Read more

Baby YeezyI could talk about how I think that Kanye’s outburst indicates some sort of underlying hatred of white people or try to assign some cultural meaning about myths, celebrity, and stereotypes, and how he’s the Narcissus of our times, but I think my initial reaction is far more fitting: Read more

I’ve been to enough indie shows to know that most aren’t even “shows”, and they’re often hardly “performances”, unless standing still and playing instruments counts. Call me jaded, but paying $25 to watch Death Cab for Cutie play songs that sound identical to the record and occasionally watch one of the band members brush the hair out of their face is makes me feel cheated. I’m not saying you have to be KISS or Weird Al Yankovic, but even an attempt at some stage presence and energy is greatly appreciated.

It’s for this reason that Band of Horses’ show at Spokane’s Read more