With swirling melodies and a definite surf and psych-rock influence, Tracy Bryant's album 'Hush' provides the perfect soundtrack for a drive along the California coast.
"From opposite ends of the East Coast, two guys moved to New York City in pursuit of a vision. They dreamed of tagged-up picket fences and dollar store jewelry as reconciled contradictions. Channeling memories of sunrise sessions and parking lot beers — of scraped elbows, loud music, and damn good times — Idle New York is clothing for your best years."
Jan Gatewood has only been making artwork in a dedicated fashion for the last three years. Amassing any decent body of work in that time would be impressive on its own, but it’s his refined sense of relationship to the work that gives it an alloyed quality.
The way each member of Slaughterhouse moves into the note of the first song, the first hit, the first riff, and the first growl of the front woman’s voice are heavy indicators that this band truly does not fuck around.
Speaking in a language of vibrant strips of color and punctuated compositions, Matthew King's paintings are accentuated by the radiant color relationships he employs.
Whatever introspective, quasi-destructive thought that may arise, Gabriel Alcala’s visual lexicon is purposefully simplified to be understood upon first glance
On Tuesday night, Melbourne, Australia native, Alex Lahey, took to the stage of West Hollywood’s Troubadour. As the old saying goes: “female-fronted is not a fucking genre.” I must say, however, that being a young queer woman, there’s always something magical about watching another queer woman backed by a band of fellow hard ripping women.
