Flying High
Sweden’s the Hellacopters are fundamentally so in tune with the basic precepts of rock and roll that it’s easy to group them with such greats as the Stooges, MC5, the Sex Pistols, AC/DC, and Motorhead. The band’s sound is as essential, incendiary, and natural as any produced by those bands. Some critics have argued that…
Styles That Stick
Somewhere, in a trailer far, far away, duct tape probably was used in a last-minute repair to a torn prom dress. Only recently, though, has the sticky fix-it-all for do-it-yourselfers been the prom dress. Teens can celebrate their ingenuity (and trailer-trash dreams) by crafting creative duds out of Duck brand duct tape for Stuck at…
They’ve Got the Power
Cleveland college radio is like the kid who had to dress next to Tommy Lee in gym class. Surrounded by supremely endowed corporate stations with tens of thousands of watts at their disposal, public broadcasters have had trouble measuring up. And despite what your girlfriend says, size does matter. Just ask the folks at WRUW-FM/91.1,…
Solid Gold
Rock and roll has been showing its age lately. But 50 years is still pretty young, and there’s no excuse for chugging along so listlessly (we’re talking to you, Creed). The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum is donning party hats April 13 for A Salute to Fifty Years of Rock and Roll,…
Starsailor
Starsailor may be guilty of nothing more than timing its arrival to coincide with the likes of Coldplay and Travis, two comparably sensitive and folk-inclined rock outfits with whom it has been lumped in reviews. The band may endear itself to American ears by bowing to the flawed greatness that was Tim Buckley in naming…
Hairy Plotters
A glance through the summaries of this year’s forthcoming blockbusters makes it immediately refreshing to note a movie about furry freaks and saucy geeks whose primary goal is just to, you know, do it. In Human Nature, written by Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich) and directed by feature neophyte Michel Gondry, the wild thang is…
Dillinger Four
Punks with brains. From Minnesota. Bitchin’. Dillinger Four extracts the excess pop (and poop) from Warped Tour-approved punk and emerges with rousing, anthemic screeds that inspire much spirited toe-tapping, fist-pumping, and dude-passing, even as the song titles (“It’s a Fine Line Between the Monkey and the Robot”; “Suckers Intl. Has Gone Public”) induce brow-furrowing. A…
The Lord’s Work?
It is possible to admire Frailty, directed by Texas-born actor Bill Paxton, without actually liking it. It’s not, strictly speaking, a gratifying movie: Too dependent upon twists that are both excruciatingly obvious and irritatingly ludicrous, it never fully satisfies; what you can’t guess, you won’t see coming, because it’s too outrageous to even fathom. Indeed,…
Black 47
If the Beatles had died abornin’ in 1962, through the collective stubbornness of John Lennon and Brian Epstein, the ’60s wouldn’t have been the ’60s — no social upheaval, no counterculture; a free ride for the forces of conservatism and reaction. In short, the decade would’ve been an extended 1950s, sans the rock and roll.…
Driving You Crazy
If you’ve been waiting to see Ben Affleck get his butt beaten down by a righteous badass wielding a tire iron … keep waiting. Changing Lanes, despite what the publicity might have you believe, is not that movie. This one has more on its mind than pitting a wimpish, whiny whitey against a bitter, braying…
Beulah
Though its indie roots aren’t entirely buried, Beulah is far easier to imagine springing to life from a seashell surfing the band to shore, à la Botticelli’s “Venus,” than slaving over a four-track in somebody’s dank garage. Likewise, ignore at all costs the band mythology about frontmen and founders Miles Surosky and Bill Swan meeting…
The Making of a Pro Violinist
Matt Means was on the interstate, a half-hour outside Denver, zooming along in the left lane, when he realized the cars ahead had ground to a halt. He slammed on the brakes. His car went into a skid, lurching across several lanes of traffic before nose-diving into a ditch. Miraculously, Means was unharmed. The car…
Bonnie Raitt
Bonnie Raitt’s 16th album is not a great album — not even a great Raitt album. It begins in fine, Little Feat-style with “Fool’s Game,” plunges into sensitive pop with David Gray’s pretty title tune, and then ratchets up with “Gnawin’ on It.” A slide-guitar duel between Raitt and Roy Rogers, it’s the sexiest thing…
A Faint Pulse
At exactly 7 p.m., Jerry Gordon calls to order the monthly meeting of his fellow idealists. They’re known as the Single Payer Action Network (SPAN), a lofty name for a dozen people sitting in a drafty union hall. It’s a turnout unworthy of a cockfight, let alone a “network.” But then, supporters of universal health…
Dieselboy
Dieselboy is, without a doubt, America’s most in-demand drum ‘n’ bass DJ, and after releasing dozens of underground mix tapes and six highly successful commercial mix CDs, it’s understandable that he’s a little wary of putting out just another straight-ahead mix CD. So, why not assemble a diverse group of American and British producers to…
Something for the Ladies
The women of the College Club are gracious and well educated. They wouldn’t think of talking out of turn or spiking the punch with Everclear. Their voices, mingling in the great hallway, sometimes sound like a splashing brook, sometimes like the rustle of a breeze through silver grasses. “That’s lovely,” they say. “How charming.” “No,…
Ed Harcourt
For those about to mope, we salute those who would slap some sense into you. Call it Mystery White Boy Disease: Every bonehead with a dreamy voice and a dreary outlook gets the Jeff Buckley hype treatment these days, though most croonin’ ‘n’ cryin’ playas are more King Cobra than Lilac Wine. Will Ed Harcourt…
Emerald Ire
When Irish eyes get pissed: Cute idea to run comparisons between the Chieftains and the Saw Doctors [“Micks and Match,” March 7]. But isn’t there someone at Scene with a little more knowledge of Irish culture than Michael Gallucci? Corned beef is not Irish. Virtually no one in Ireland eats corned beef, and to that…
40th Dimension
Rising up from the ever-growing Philadelphia underground, 40th Dimension has spent the last several years building a strong rep through various self-released projects. After treating listeners to its outstanding debut EP, The Clarence Beeks Project, and dropping two quality singles, it’s now releasing its first full-length. 40D’s approach is relatively straightforward but extremely tight, comprising…
Marino’s Folly
“There’s nothing more exciting than a new idea!” So said Sal Marino, the Cleveland publishing magnate who built a small company into the $300 million global force that is Penton Media Inc. And for a time at the turn of the new century, it seemed like any new idea was a good one. The dictate…
Ciao Bella
Few bands can boast a descriptor like “demented lounge.” Yet that’s the tag applied to Ciao Bella, a dark and debonair bass, drums, and piano-driven quartet. Slinking drum riffs, a smoked-out piano, and jazzy bass grooves stewed over moping tales of vampires, betrayal, and big-city blues form the basis of this band’s oddball aesthetic. The…
Revealing Photos
Photography Transformed: Selections From the Metropolitan Bank and Trust Collection, now on view at the Cleveland Museum of Art, reveals a wondrous secret: A Cleveland-based bank owns one of the largest corporate collections of contemporary art in the country, and one of the few devoted to photo-based works. Tom Hinson, the museum’s curator of photography,…
When Online Got Off Base
On a good day, Mark Cuban might respond to a journalist’s query with a terse, unpunctuated e-mail that reads like something dashed off by a hostage while his captors are in the can. It’s understandable: The man’s running the Dallas Mavericks, investing in movie distribution and exhibition companies, sticking it to NBA commissioner David Stern…
Eye-Opening Meals
At its best, breakfast is an unpretentious wake-up call of sunny eggs, fluffy flapjacks, or hearty hash, washed down with manly mugs of joe. Typically consumed on a weekday morning on the way to The Job, this isn’t a meal that calls for formal or fawning service; it’s enough just to start the day surrounded…
Scoop du Jour
We had hoped that when Pete and Mike Mitchell finally got around to opening a second outpost of their Mitchell Brothers Ice Cream, it would be in our backyard. It isn’t, but at least the new Solon spot is a little closer to our lair than the original location in Westlake. And East Siders apparently…
Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thang
J-Wal and S.o.L, tall and lanky basketball standouts turned rappers, stalk the stage with mics in hand. The DJ cranks a sinister guitar lick, and the crowd titters with nervous energy, ready to collide like subatomic particles in a superconductor. J-Wal jumps into the first verse to set off the reaction: “When you first look…
