Savages | the three-word review + REVIEWED IN PICTURES
Savages. They aren’t.
Song of the day – 573: Marsheaux
This could, I suspect, be called synth-pop without much fear of contradiction.
A letter from a Nirvana fan
It is raining heavily in Utrecht, Netherlands, 1:55 AM, a dark and dreary night filled with feedback and grungy slippery guitar overtones wailing from my imagination into my eardrums. I’ve been listening to Leadbelly, Half Japanese and Nirvana. A few minutes ago I finished your 2005 book on that little band from Olympia or Aberdeen or wherever. A million miles away from me, in any case.
Screaming Match @ The Primitive Room, Spring Hill, 26.04.13
Music fills a need. Occasionally, I need to see folk being themselves – selves that I like – to remind me of what I’m not.
20 Most Read Entries on Collapse Board | April 2013
Another slow month, enlivened somewhat by the top two entries. At this rate, Collapse Board’s going to be less popular than The Legend!’s music – something I always figured was impossible. 1. A fitting playlist for her funeral | 30 Songs about Margaret Thatcher Here’s what I’ll be playing, come the day of her funeral. […]
Two songs about doing the laundry and perhaps the greatest single ever made
Just because I’m in that sort of mood, you know.
DO YOU WANT WORK EXPERIENCE WITH COLLAPSE BOARD?
Working at Collapse Board isn’t all writing about bands no one’s heard of, not getting sent albums and being refused places on guest lists. Sometimes we get abused as “boring, self satisfied hipster cunts” too
Song of the day – 572: Hot Fruit
The video is so striking, it’s easy to overlook how rad the music is. And the music certainly is rad.
In Words: Dig It Up! 2013 – Hoodoo Gurus + Blue Oyster Cult + The Flamin’ Groovies @ The Tivoli, 18.04.13
They rocked like the remains of a teenage garage band they once were. They rocked like Girls In The Garage. Yes, that good. Sure, not all the set was golden but when it was golden it sparkled like spring rain
Song of the day – 571: A Cartoon Graveyard
I looked down at the pile of vomit shimmering in the gutter, shaking and still feeling nauseous. “That’s funny,” I thought to myself, picking a bit of Jodie Foster out the remains. “I don’t remember listening to that.”
