How cute are Finally Punk? Look at them up there, looking like a little Maynards wine gum, rainbow-coloured splodge of jangly punk perfection. If you don’t like them already then click beneath to listen to a song that will immediately convert you – just like that time Cat Stevens was drowning and hedged his bets by popping out some platitudes for Allah as he was washed back to shore, and wham, bam, thank you Yusuf Islam, it was forevermore.
Archive for June, 2009
Vice Singles Club, 29 June 09
THE VIRGINS
“Hey Hey Girl”
Warner
The charming thing about the Virgins, or at least the song “Rich Girls” was they were a shitty guitar band trying to play R & B but failing in a dumb and glorious fashion. Then they re-recorded that song with some big shot producer who actually made them sound professional and ruined their schtick, which made them pretty rubbish. This is another song by them, which may have been good at some point, but now definitely isn’t. Basically if they hire me as their manager / guru I will make them shitty and glorious once more.
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WALDO JEFFERS Read more »
Sex is Disgusting: Dirty Beaches
There was something about the minimal dub-pop, Suicide-esque sound of Dirty Beaches (who happen to be another one of those plural one-man-band bands) that I found magical from the first minute I heard them/him/it.
A Fist In The Face Of God - Devastation
The chamber is awaiting, inside we have some more real deathrash on our hands this week, and an unholy quiz of sorts. Prepare for Devastation.
Three Cheers - Desolation Wilderness
Desolation Wilderness are a three-piece from Olympia, Washington who make dreamy ambient Americana, drenched in a ton of echo and reverb. Their new record, White Light Strobing, is perfect for the long summer nights that are hopefully ahead of us. I caught up with singer Nicolaas Zwart for a quick interview. Read more »
The Mars Volta love to eat fish
William Trill’s one of our favourite photographers, and recently he split up that band Wavves by giving them too many drugs before they went onstage. But he’s not much of an interviewer. Still, Vice is an altruistic organisation and believes that everyone should be allowed many, many, many, chances to prove themselves. So we let him talk to The Mars Volta. Like the Rain Man he is, he thought it’d best to talk about food and Come Dine With Me. Perhaps it’s part of a one-man protest until they grow up and reform At The Drive-In.
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Get with the Kindness
Kindness are the best act we’ve heard for weeks and we know next to nothing about them. Read more »
Glastonbury isn’t all that unique
The most expensive part of going to Glastonbury is going there and buying a ticket. This can be easily eliminated by not going to Glastonbury and not buying a ticket. Once these piffling inconsequences are out of the way, you too can experience all the unity, all the magical uniqueness of the greatest festival on earth from the comfort of your own home. How so? Simply do like we say and recreate all its pleasures from stuff you can easily find around the house. Your mind is Glastonbury. Glastonbury is only ever in your mind. Never forget that. Read more »
Vice Singles Club, 22 June, 2009
Everyone says singles are an antiquated form, but that’s only if you’re going to buy them, not if you’re going to steal them, or just take the piss out of them. Here’s the first of our weekly Vice singles round-ups, complete with words, pictures and, occasionally, mildly relevant videos. Read more »
Great band of the week: Chinese Sloppy Plop
Any video with the tags “love, hate, rape, evil, cunt, fuck, Satan, devil, abuse, revenge, grave, yard stone, life, death and Orkney” sounds pretty promising, right? Even if the band has the single most fucking retarded name in the history of music: Chinese Sloppy Plop. This song appears to be about a girl who gets beaten by her dad and a guy who fancies her decides that the best way into her knickers is to TORTURE AND KILL HIM. This subtle tale of courtship and romance is set to a video consisting of one plagiarised goth image after another, each so mindblowingly literal that when the lyrics go: “When you were three,” we are treated to a badge with the number 3 on it. It’s all so earnest it’s terrifying. As far as I can see, some poor girl from the Orkney Islands had a horrible childhood and a violent stalker shouting gobshite emo-isms at her window at night. “Buy you diamonds, buy you gold, as your father burns in hell.” Read more »
