“It fucking hurts to be alive/Oh, the fragility of life.” No, this isn’t a lyric from one of your favorite emo punk records; it’s the opening line of Whitmer T... Read More...
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.
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.
Sadgirl is fuzzy old school doo-wop with surf-punk cynicism and Misha Lindes can go from Bobby Vinton’s “Mr. Lonely” to Mr. Don’t Fuck With Me real quick.
Art serves many purposes — a form of therapy, of ritual, of commentary. For artist Tara Booth art constitutes a means to remain sane and deal with insecurity directly.
