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Upstairs, the best jukebox ever presides over the cozy booths and cocktails. Downstairs, shows are packed, loud and fun-just like its namesake and original venue for the Fab Four.
Magic Kids belong to the legion of young artists sucking inspiration from '60s pop—Phil Spector's horn-and string-laden symphonies, two-minute Brill Building paeans and the Beach Boys' harmonies. The band's full-length debut from earlier this... More »
Had Brooklyn's Small Black been recording and releasing material back in the '80s, critics and journalists would've simply labeled the band's layered, dreamy lo-fi sound as synth-pop or, perhaps, electro-pop. File under: Rock/Pop. In interviews,... More »
When pressed, DJ Sober guesses that he owns somewhere in the vicinity of 3000 records on vinyl—maybe a few more, maybe a few less. But he knows quite well what's contained within that collection. He starts listing some of his more obscure... More »
There's a grand—or not so grand, depending on your tastes—tradition of bands naming themselves after their place of origin. Alabama, Kansas, Boston and many other proud sons have made a point to state their allegiance up front and center. Add... More »
Taylor Goldsmith's contemplations of eternity may be a bit precocious for someone in his early 20s, but, then again, he and his similarly youthful bandmates in Dawes suggest they have old souls on their debut album, North Hills. Or at least souls... More »
Spune Productions has done the impossible, turning a small club on the meat-market strip of Lower Greenville into a truly viable music venue. In fact, Spune's booking prowess has landed countless crowd-drawing indie-rock acts from Man Man to Devendra Banhart...which has become a problem. The tiny room has only enough space for a few dozen patrons, and the stage is already crowded with musicians. Still, the club favors unknown acts, so some of the best bands are still subject to small crowds,... More »
Not surprising that The Cavern is the best rock hangout in town, given that it's named after one of rock and roll's landmarks, the Liverpool bar where John, Paul, George and Ringo played before anyone cared who they were. But the name is almost irrelevant (at least its origin is), and so is the Fab Four décor; this isn't a theme park. The bar really is a cavern, though--dark and comfortable, exactly the kind of place where you can lose yourself for a few hours inside a tumbler full of... More »
Ricki Derek doesn't look much like Sinatra, but he sounds kinda like him and, goodness, does he bring out a quirky crowd. Under his surreal crooning the bar becomes a haven for those who would rather be disemboweled by butter knives than go to the Beagle next door. There is no stereotype for the kind of person who enjoys Sinatra impersonators; they come from all walks of life, every social strata. In the dark confines of The Cavern you'll find drug-addled hipsters, aging swingers with tacky... More »
Back when Eleven Hundred Springs was kicking off the week from its stage, Adair's was the place to go on Monday nights. Now that honor goes to The Cavern and DJ Karl, the guy with the rock-and-roll mullet and a kick-ass collection of old punk rock and new wave. The drinks are cheap, the music's great, and every once in a while, a band drops by to play downstairs, like The BellRays' sweaty recent gig there. It's hard to beat--unless you're not a fan of looking like hell at work on Tuesday... More »
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