The old, weird Houston scene — somewhere both the music and people who made it could be hazardous to your long-term health and short-term prospects of making it to work the next day — is almost gone, replaced by an ambitious generation of bands that prefers social networking and playing it safe. Maybe that’s for the better; probably not. Dead Roses, Hamamatsu Tom and the Wiggins, however, all play punk-ish songs full of cantankerous feedback, off-putting noise and withering sarcasm, meant to impress no one except those who get it. Does that make them throwbacks or just smart?
This article appears in Dec 27, 2012 – Jan 2, 2013.
