Showing posts with label live. Show all posts
Showing posts with label live. Show all posts
Friday, July 22, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Live Phone Chat: Cian Nugent [25.02.10]
My first ever live-to-air phone interview/chat, with Dublin, Ireland solo guitarist Cian Nugent: part 1, part 2. True to form, I had a few hiccups working the phone; the chat starts around 40 minutes into the show. Thanks to Cian for his time + patience!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Friday, April 17, 2009
Live Review: Grouper & Pumice
Been meaning to put this up... here's my review of the Grouper/Pumice show at Whammy on March 12.
As the sole dream weaver behind last year’s most gorgeous record Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill, Portland, Oregon’s Liz Harris aka Grouper held the decently sized crowd at Whammy spellbound with her brand of ghostly, nebulous drone-pop. She cut a waifish, slightly reticent, bird-like figure on-stage, softly pawing her electric guitar through simple chord progressions while her spine-chilling vocals, layered via looping pedals, filled the room, harmonizing with itself into clusters of pillowy, ethereal sound. The set was perhaps on the short side at 40 minutes, but nonetheless darkly captivating stuff to bliss out to. The rarely performing Pumice opened charmingly ramshackle as ever. Fuzzy, crackling, and always seeming on the verge of falling apart, his unstable, feedback-riddled lo-fi ditties had that subterranean quality that made him an apt complement to Grouper’s otherworldliness. (Real Groove, April '09)
As the sole dream weaver behind last year’s most gorgeous record Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill, Portland, Oregon’s Liz Harris aka Grouper held the decently sized crowd at Whammy spellbound with her brand of ghostly, nebulous drone-pop. She cut a waifish, slightly reticent, bird-like figure on-stage, softly pawing her electric guitar through simple chord progressions while her spine-chilling vocals, layered via looping pedals, filled the room, harmonizing with itself into clusters of pillowy, ethereal sound. The set was perhaps on the short side at 40 minutes, but nonetheless darkly captivating stuff to bliss out to. The rarely performing Pumice opened charmingly ramshackle as ever. Fuzzy, crackling, and always seeming on the verge of falling apart, his unstable, feedback-riddled lo-fi ditties had that subterranean quality that made him an apt complement to Grouper’s otherworldliness. (Real Groove, April '09)
Friday, February 27, 2009
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