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August 10, 2005

Metabo-core, Bolic-punk, Intravenous proto-pop.

And now for the newsletter titles no one saw on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Fuck, don't you know new releases come out on Thursday? Shut up.

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Juliana Hatfield has a new record out. I think it's fantastic - "It's raw...it bashes...and she considers whether any of it mattered, whether she was exploited, and whether or not she even cares in retrospect..." - but undoubtedly, right now, there are at least 3 people hating on it somewhere on the Internet. Sorry, Julia. You can't win them all. She knows this.

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Ska-core, Evel Knievel, and Jay Mohr, it's the Suicide Machines. I think these guys probably wish they were still young, but then again they've made a record that only a 10 and 5 band could make. The title's blown-out and overwrought as hell; it should be written in magic marker on a xerox'd flier in some crappy coffeehouse somewhere, alongside refinery face MMR punker bands like Slut the President and Goatsick. But still, War Profiteering is Killing Us All is a great album, and the Machines tore the hell out of the ball at the Detroit stop of Warped.

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I sat down on the couch, and a drank a beer, and I felt sorry for myself, and then I looked up and Stu Scott was standing there, and his eye was miraculously healed, and we went out in the backyard and putted Titleists into an old sawed-off Coors Light can, and I wasn't that sad anymore. Then Stu and me met up with the rest of the guys in the band - Stu drove us, because now that his eye was healthy, and now he loved driving - and we recorded this new record called Looking for Lucky. In my baritone soul I said "Hey, this is some pretty slick stuff. Why don't I kick Felber in the nutsack, just so a risk was taken in the studio?" But I decided against it, mostly because I thought that would make Stuart leave. So anyway, we recorded the record, and then we went out and did a bunch of lucrative touring. Actually, we didn't, because we don't have to. We're Hootie & the Blowfish, our major-label debut has sold 16 or 17 million units to date, and resides alongside perennial RIAA best-sellers like the Eagles' Greatest Hits and Pink Floyd's The Wall. So to those 3 guys ridiculing Juliana Hatfield for wondering about her music and her career and trying to make a solid album? Fuck y'all, because I'm Darius Rucker and sing in a band that you'd totally fucking go see if we were in Vegas when you were. And we might just be bitch, because check it out: not only has my band sold upwards of, shit, like 30 million records total, but we have our own lounge at a casino on the strip. What do you have? A Pile of Banquet microwave meals and a sock with a hole in it. Yeah, that's what a thought. C'mon Stu, let's go watch SportsCenter.

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"By 2005 - in America anyway - hearing the story of how the Boo Radleys didn't make it was more common than hearing any of their actual music." Ideally, the band's new anthology Find the Way Out fixes that.

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"By Staind album five it's remarkable how much bile still sits in Aaron Lewis' gut, how much mental anguish he's endured. But what's equally remarkable is how dilligently he regurgitates it. He's like the post-grunge Job."

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"What's that coming out of the electric mud? Why, it's Danny Methric's moustache." The Muggs have put out their self-titled debut on Times Beach, and it's a '70s rock rager in the 2000s.

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The Greenhornes also have something new out, East Grand Blues EP is their V2 debut, and was recorded with Brendan Benson.

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I only wanna be with you.

JTL

Posted by Johnny Loftus at August 10, 2005 2:30 PM