In wanting to get some hot takes from Horrible/Adorable on songwriting, pizza life, and the raddest of enamel pins, we caught up with the bay area’s finest Neapolitan rockers.
In shorthand, Alfred Howard has a great mind. In wanting to bother one of my favorite people, I decided to ask him about the carnival of terror that was 2016, the social relevance of Myspace, and the greatness of The Redwoods.
Her voice is like a balm for bruised hearts and people who think Dusty Springfield should have a statue out in front of the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame. There’s a definite nod toward Burt Bacharach and early sixties Hi-Fi standards in the way she plays and sings.
Turnover – Austin Getz, Casey Getz, Eric Soucy and Danny Dempsey – have created a mosaic of illusory, intangible, and yet familiar imagery. With the band’s latest release, Peripheral Vision, the Virginia Beach natives lend themselves to a rip current of dreamlike compositions.
Elizabeth le Fey’s gossamer cat’s cradle of mystery, magic, and music finds itself under the moniker of Globelamp. The artist delivers spectral intonations reminiscent of forgotten shores and night tides.
Guttural, sticky refrains and dominant drums. Crunchy guitars and zigzagging bass. And coolly assertive, slick vocals. Seattle’s wimps – Rachel Ratner, Matt Nyce, and Dave Ramm – are behind some of music’s most visceral live performances.
The breadth of excitement, sincerity, and knowledge that she brings to The Grey Estates is not only immersive and welcoming, but it is a touchstone of quality in a market where, more often than not, publications favor snark over sensibility.
Alfred Howard’s impression on San Diego music has been paramount. From being the scribe behind seven bands to writing anecdotal, jocular, and observant memoirs, the record collector and immensely talented artist has changed the topography of the city.
Teal Garrels is a super cool person, purveyor of greatness, and the onetime legendary publicist for such companies as Biz 3 and Sub Pop. She’s one of the reasons Cinema Spartan exists, if you don’t know your superfluous San Diego dotcom history