Marsha Genensky’s heard the question before, and she’ll no doubt hear it again. In fact, the leader of Anonymous 4–the chart-topping, all-female medieval choral quartet–is hearing it again right now: Can she possibly explain the continued and apparently limitless success of the Gregorian-chant music made by the monks of Santo…
It is Sunday as I write this, and when I stepped out of my house at the crack of noon, I found more than just the Arizona Republic waiting for me. There was a roll of toilet paper in a plastic bag hanging from my doorknob. (Wickeder wags than me…
In 1955, Allen Ginsberg came like a banshee into the public eye with his poem “Howl.” Filled with rage, honesty and raunchiness, the work immediately brought down the guillotine of U.S. censorship and made him a hero of the poetic underground. In the late Forties, Ginsberg–along with pals Jack Kerouac,…
Gary Martin’s eyes are getting big again. They tend to do that when Martin shows off his music collection. He’ll point with passion at familiar recordings from the classic-rock era. He’ll wave his arms and give pithy sermons on the merits of fusion-jazz titles from the early Seventies. Gary Martin’s…
He’s got those little round glasses, that soaring tenor and a knack for hooky melodies that could choke a whale. Way back in the early Eighties, critics slobbered all over him for the pure pop magnificence of his debut album, Marshall Crenshaw. And if you haven’t guessed the identity of…
It is the year 2029, and old Mr. Wibly is attic-bound again. This time he’s trying to jump-start his dusty Gerard turntable with a digital microchip AC converter he bought at Radio Shack. “Goddamn those Tandy people! Don’t they ever make anything that works?” he grumbles, just as grandson Kyle…
It was 10:40 p.m., and still no sign of any aging Kiss fans sporting painted cat faces. Nor would there be, but then again, maybe the sight of 35-year-old guys with beer guts and Kiss tee shirts should have been spectacle enough for one night. And judging by reactions to…
Liz Phair Whip Smart (Matador) Just because her first album was Exile on Main Street with a Tampax doesn’t mean this is Phair’s Goat’s Head douche. If anything, “Super Nova” and “May Queen” are what “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” might have sounded like if Lesley Gore had been singing instead of…
If you know anything about Grant Hart, it’s probably that he was the singer/songwriter/drummer in one of the definitive bands of the Eighties, Husker Du. He also got a lot of press for being a junkie. Not just any junkie, but an irresponsible junkie. Showed up late, missed gigs entirely,…
Random Reviews Various Artists You Got Lucky–A Tribute to Tom Petty (Backyard) You can’t polish a turd, as Eleanor Roosevelt used to say, and that’s one of the main problems with so many “tribute” albums these days. Sure, the Carpenters had a couple of great, ultralite pop songs, but most…
Their writing has all the sensitiveness an’ feeling that makes music cool to listen to you will probably call it contemporary blues– it could be that if you want it to be it doesn’t matter just let it pass through you. Those are just some of Donovan’s groovy liner notes…
And you thought Ticketmaster was evil! Hey, just because it wants to add a ticket “service charge” that’s almost as high as minimum wage–just ask Eddie Vedder, he’s plenty mad–the ‘master ain’t all bad. It’s sponsoring the second annual Ticketmaster Music Showcase on Saturday at Minder Binder’s in Tempe, featuring…
Juanita Najera swears she is not fanatical about Marty Robbins. A fan, yes, but not fanatical. Yet it is because of Marty Robbins that she moved from back East to Glendale to live in the town of Robbins’ birth–to live, in fact, in the house formerly occupied by Robbins’ twin…
For my name, just call me lonely For my past, just say it’s bad For the story I’m about to tell you Might sound a little sad Well, I never had nothing All I’ve ever owned was me I was about to lose myself And then I met Mary –“Lonely…
War of the Super Buses–The Confrontation: Last week on these very pages, you were promised the titillating lowdown on the ultimate grudge race to the death–the power-packed, diesel-only dirt on a new low in merchandising gimmickry. That’s right, the toy replicas of the mighty touring coaches of country legends Billy…
He may not be out there peeing in public, he doesn’t have his own brand of self-named beer, and he hasn’t taken any personal loans from Libya. But that doesn’t mean Roger Clinton is any less noticeable than the last notorious presidential brother, lovable buffoon Billy Carter. Goodness knows (that’s…
The mean streets of Compton have claimed many, but 24-year-old, self-proclaimed gangsta rapper MC Eiht has taken the lurid, true-life tales of his hometown to the top of the charts. Along the way, he’s managed to upset hip-hop moralist Dr. C. Deloris Tucker and psychic legionnaire Dionne Warwick with his…
At almost any given moment during the last 40 years, while most Americans have been doing things like going to the dentist, balancing checkbooks, eating toast or snoozing soundly in their very own beds, a man named Sleepy LaBeef has been at the wheel of some large vehicle barreling down…
Amid all the manufactured mainstream media malarkey about 1) both Woodstocks (anniversary and 94), 2) the Rolling Stones’ toothless and soulless new album, Voodoo Lounge, and the band’s “Till Death Do Us Part” kabillion-dollar U.S. tour, and 3) the breathless promise of a concert, live from Graceland, of Elvis songs…
Ever get that, you know, not-so-fresh feeling about an artist? It’s probably because you’re associating that artist’s music with a separate, unpleasant experience. For instance, I know this gentleman who has a deep-rooted resentment of Henry Mancini, simply because someone threw up on him in a car when “Moon River”…
Though you’ll probably never hear titles like “We’re a Scandinavian Band,” “Sweet Home Nawasaka” or “The Haarlem Shuffle,” more than a handful of cunning linguists have slipped through the predominantly English Only world of Top 40 hits. Here are a few. 1956: An octet of French vocalists scat-sing George Shearing’s…
If you haven’t figured it out, I’m old. And I’ll tell you something else: I have a tough time getting it up for great, big rock n’ roll shows anymore. But I’ve had my fun in the past, sure. For example: I got smashed against the front wall, stoned out…
