Anthony Pirog, "Budding Peonies": On Beginning to End (Sonic Mass), his debut album, NYC-based guitarist/composer Anthony Pirog offers an aural Whitman's sampler of his core competencies: sunkissed tone poems (think John Fahey), pitch-shifted glimmer, meditative squalls, discordant piano frowns and various noisy flavors. While End's odds and, er, ends hang together quite nicely, I'm predisposed to the uglier bits; singling out just one to highlight was something of a struggle.
Dug "Screaming Sun
Amid the past two weeks of Michael Jackson worship, the details of his drug use were slowly leaked out. The man had done enough painkillers and random legal narcotics that would make all-star druggies like Keith Richards and Lemmy Kilmister shudder and cower away.
It's funny that this small and sprightly man, who enchanted everyone with his dancing and vocalizations, would be a walking pharmacy. In hindsight his erratic, yet meticulous behavior can now be chalked up to hard partying and narcissi
This is a good time for local music. From a fan's vantage point, albums have been dropping left and right. It's hard to find artists willing to take the time to write a solid full-length album rather than have five great tracks and seven fillers. For local musicians, step your game up. You may think you're doing well, but the Tontons' self-titled album raises the bar so high, only an "A" game can hope to compete.
Let's get something straight: No single song on the quartet's first full-len
Chris Gray​
Friday's sold-out Blue October show at Verizon left Aftermath wondering one of the most vexing, troublesome things any reviewer can: "What is it about this band," the voice in our head kept asking over and over again like a car alarm, sometimes even threatening to drown out the band itself, "that we just don't get?"
Because it must be something. Something we spent the balance of the onetime Houston band's homecoming show trying to figure out, and didn't get much of anywhere - past
​We don't always hate John Mayer. No, really. Sometimes dude seems downright likable, like when he's hanging out in the Comedy Cellar in NYC, or releasing self-effacing web videos, or popping up for cavalier, amusing chats with our XM favorites Ron & Fez. Even his Twitter account is worth reading on a regular basis. And who could forget his appearance on Chappelle's Show? We haven't.
But then we hear one of Mayer's songs, and our goodwill instantly evaporates. From the simpering nature of
