Like just about everyone, I often think of bands in terms of the other bands of which they remind me. For Pinback, I picture them as a West Coast Sebadoh. Even though it’s meant in the most admiring way, such a classification is not fair because it may make it sound like they’re somehow aping the discordant yet melodic Bostonians who like their Splatter Technique lyrics with healthy doses of punk guitar and punker feedback. Plus, there’s the whole repetition thing that Pinback takes much further than Lou and the gang: chords, chorus, repeat. You can hear it all the way through Pinback’s discography and right up to their most recent, Autumn of the Seraphs. And contrary to every track sounding the same, each one finds a new way to make the same old thing sound totally original. No wonder Pinback’s following is so loyal. Check out a new track and some older ones, then check out Pinback guy Rob Crow, whose recent solo release kinda-sorta sounds like Pinback but kinda-sorta covers even more new territory.
ORIGINAL POST (9/17/04):
For those who consider “indie” a genre rather than just a classification, it’s probably such lo-fi, wounded-guy sounds as Sebadoh, Built to Spill, and Modest Mouse that come to mind when you hear the “I” word. But don’t forget about Pinback, who return to rock your world — well, that may be a bit overstated — with some loopy, melancholic, melodic pop. What’s new is “indie” again on the splendid single “Fortress.” The others are just for nostalgia’s sake.
An indie monagamist he ain’t. Pinback’s Rob Crow has, like, a gazillion side projects so that he always has some kind of outlet for making music. (Even more reason for the Sebadoh/Lou Barlow parallels – see 
The UK’s 
The Toy Guns are (mostly) British, yes; but no, this is not a Joy Division cover. “Transmission” is a rip-roaring little post-punk number that, like the best of the genre, clocks in at just over two minutes. It may be a less-then-ideal 96kbps, but if listened to loud enough in the car while playing the air guitar, you can barely notice.
I just returned from a rousing and refreshing vacation to various parts of Utah. One stop took us to a Trappist Monastery in Huntsville, where we had the chance to catch the resident monks chant their songs of praise. As we walked up to the chapel, my 7-year-old son, who apparently misheard us, said, “I don’t want to listen to the chimps sing.” Silly kid: monks sound nothing like chimps, and chimps sound nothing like monks. And Part Chimp sound nothing like monks or chimps (unless they’d developed an affinity for Sonic Youth and Mogwai) — but what they do is rock hard. For the record, my son likes Part Chimp’s music better than the monks’ chanting but prefers the monks’ artisan honey to, well, just about anything.
Alright, I’m super-geeked for this one. “Only Trying To Help,” Ryan Ferguson’s first solo album is out in just about a month, August 21st, on Better Looking Records. Ferguson continues to shape his songs around the acoustic guitar, but he fills in the surrounding space with plenty of electric guitars, piano and xylophone, fully fleshing out tracks. Compared to his more stripped down EP (which is still available in its entirety below), Ferguson had the time and the room to see his songs through and add the proverbial bells and whistles. The three tracks offered here are just the beginning of his spot-on songwriting. His attention to hooks paired with an intensity, just this side of his No Knife days, make for an entirely re-listenable record. “Only Trying To Help” is what “pop-punk” should be.
3hive.com and Canadian bands have a totally love-love relationship. From 
My friend Cheech is driving around the USA this summer with his girlfriend and a Geoffrey Roberts Award, tasting and blogging about our country’s endangered foods. How great is that?! (Check out his adventures at 
It’s my last post from Memphis, so I’d better make it a Memphis band, eh? I especially like the changing moods of “In Transit” by The Coach and Four. First delicate and almost plaintive, then building until becoming strong, fierce, and frantic, it reflects the hidden stories of the band’s namesake, a local run-down hotel.