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BARRY THOMPSON
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Knocking Out Blackout
Even behind the wall of semi-anonymity provided by blogs and Internet message boards, some rules still apply.
4AD (2012)
Unlike a few of his early '90s Seattle contemporaries who made tons of money, erstwhile Screaming Trees vocalist Mark Lanegan has not died, put out shitty records, or made a self-deprecating cameo on Portlandia.
Best time of your life? Hardly. Behold these stunning antics, ripped straight from the campus crime blotters.
Incident logs available online and/or at campus police stations display laundry lists of amateur-hour escapades and bike/backpack/wallet/gadget thefts. Here are some amusing, singular shenanigans and trends from last semester culled from public records
State of mind
Johnny Cash's baleful self-portrait "Ain't No Grave" oozes into my skull through a Sailor Jerry haze.
Growing up hardcore
It's tough to maintain unswerving matter-of-factness without boring anybody. But hardcore, at its best, manages exactly that.
Precious metals
Back in March, the Japanese band Dir En Grey had recorded about half of what became Dum Spiro Spero, their eighth album. Then the world ended, or at least came pretty close.
The Bureau (2011)
Normally, Jeremy Dubs co-heads Bunnies, whose aural designs emanate from an alternate future of classic rock, evoking ecstatic awe and/or divine terror — a seriously crazy band.
Sunday Best Recordings (2011)
Psychically separating Crazy Clown Time from David Lynch's peerless filmmaking legacy is sort of like guzzling Lynch's signature brand of coffee until overstimulation compels you to write Twin Peaks fan-fic erotica staring Agent Cooper and the Log Lady, and all the while telling yourself these actions do not co-relate.
Righteous
Punks, frequently eager to shove a stick of self-important vainglory up their own asses, have been some of the worst offenders. But, as is usually the case with sweeping generalizations, the exceptions to this one make it look ridiculous.
Pixie gauged
Seconds into an overdue piss break, I heard a thing of beauty and relative singularity coming from the next room over.
Warner Bros. (2011)
"I am the table!" growls James Hetfield during the de facto chorus of "The View."
A new club choice
Radio, the embryonic house o' rock at the former Club Choices space at 379 Somerville Ave, has cricks in need of massaging. But I'm confident those will be attended to — Radio probably won't be a sweat lodge at its 200-person capacity most of the time.
Content within brutality
Perhaps sped-up three-chord angst anthems and ugly haircuts fell out of relevance long before the kid from A Walk To Remember started singing for the Germs.
Chamber made
Back when we had barely begun the long and terrible journey towards self awareness, most of us thought of darkness as something menacing and unsafe. Many of us still do.
Term limits? Those are for losers. Here are the 12 Foursquare mayors who hung onto their turf
Before I had the foggiest idea that Foursquare existed, our esteemed managing editor pitched me the idea of interviewing mayors. Following a deeply confusing 20-minute-or-so conversation, I started to understand that she wasn't asking me to interview Menino every week.
Cult of personality
"Talking about drugs is very boring. It's more interesting to take them," says Christopher Owens over the phone.
Sound the charge
Bass Drum of Death, the cranium-clobbering garage duo-turned-trio chosen to rep the Hospitality State this year, will join Japandroids tonight (Thursday) to metaphorically Eiffel Tower a sold-out Middle East.
Ketman a go-go bye-bye
As the book says, it is best to follow the example set by Jesus Christ himself — live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse.
Spinning the wheel
Not only does their razor-sharp pop consciousness and reverence for rock and roll classics distance them from the "hard to play/harder to listen to" prog and/or funk trappings of Berklee, site of the bands' 2002 genesis; it also makes them one of the cooler bands in town who could probably appeal to most of their fans' parents.
Girl Boy Girl Boy Records (2011)
A Boston-area quartet discovered a middle-road solution to the dilemma confronted by every band who endures past its sophomore album.
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