Rock
Bryan McPherson has come a long way from writing songs in the room next to mine in North Cambridge and then busking at Porter and Harvard Squares.
He came up with one of those transcendent Richard Thompson moments, one to match anything I’ve seen onstage this year.
With most of his contemporaries doing reunion tours or playing decades-old albums, Paul Weller is one of the few claiming his right to be a still-evolving artist.
The sound was often so inviting that it seemed Wire were easing comfortably into middle age.
Palma Violets’ bruising performance Tuesday secured their place as one of the best live acts in the world.
Though they took enough acid to qualify as a psychedelic band, the Blues Magoos always had a foot in the garage.
Axel Krygier wisely treats the album’s framing concept as lightly as possible, turning Monsieur Bigfoot into a sort of Everyhominid who offers existential-woe comments on a variety of subjects.
Recent Comments