Concert Review

By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

On November 4^th fans of Brand New, Thrice, and Crime In Stereo flocked to the House of Blues in Orlando, Florida. The audience filled the building to the brim, scrounged up every last ticket, and witnessed a cavalcade of breathtaking lights and sounds before the night was through.

It had been four years since I had seen either Brand New or Thrice perform live. In that time each band has grown drastically. Thrice put out a wildly experimental four EP concept album series based on the four elements: Fire, Water, Wind, and Earth. However, rather than being a dense and unlistenable musical tome, the tunes that composed the series, The Alchemy Index, were some of the band’s most accessible and powerful songs to date. Thrice’s follow-up record, Beggars, is out now and showcases a more groove based and concise side of the band’s song writing.

In the meantime Brand New took a few years to craft an aggressive new chapter in their career, which culminated in their newest record Daisy. I was excited to see how the new material from both bands would translate into the live environment, but first Crime In Stereo got a chance to bring some melodic punk to the stage.

With their drums pounding away at break neck speeds Crime In Stereo used their guitar riffs to meld distorted punk seamlessly with melodic introspective interludes and bridges that complimented the sing/scream back and forth dynamic of their vocalist. The band’s stage presence was energetic, guitars were whipped about and the vocalist pogo’d up and down and flailed in time to chugging guitar chords. The singing was rough at times and their set was fairly short, but overall they brought some honest punk rock to the ears of the audience, which is hardly ever a bad thing.

Next up, Thrice emerged from the darkness of the dimmed houselights with a thumping bass line that queued the rest of the band to come crashing in with the opening track off of Beggars, “All The World Is Mad.” This was the first of many songs that were played off of the band’s new album, and while some fans kept their fingers crossed for “The Artist In The Ambulance” or “Deadbolt,” the tunes off of Beggars deserved a chance to become fully realized on the live stage.

The new groove based jams really flourished live. The softer moments were given ample delicacy and the crescendos were stretched to their limits, careening just near cacophony, but still holding steady, kept in balance as if each band members’ life depended on it. All the while the lights above the stage danced in time, soothing and moody during songs like “A Song For Milly Michaelson,” and then spastic and chaotic for the heavier songs like “The Arsonist” and “Silhouette.” The performance was captivating both musically and visually, and while I was anxious for Brand New to surface from back stage, at least one of my fellow music patrons had already declared Thrice the act of the night.

Time passed painfully slow as we waited and watched the take down and set up of gear. Eventually Brand New graced the venue’s stage and made waste of no time delving directly into “You Won’t Know.” Lead singer Jesse Lacey’s voice crooned the melodic verses and darted into scratchy yells on the chorus letting the song’s emotional content take his body over. The band made no effort disguising the audience’s desire to hear songs that are over half a decade old at this point and after playing “Degausser” they ran through the highlights of their sophomore album “Deja Entendu” leaving screaming fans with scratchy throats as the audience chanted along to every lyric.

After a few more songs the lights turned low and the band deserted Lacey. Alone with his guitar he played a stripped down version of “Limousine,” which was soaked in honesty. The rest of the band snuck back in for the song’s outro, developing a wall of sound that dissolved into feedback, and before anyone could grasp the gravity of the closing lyrics, “do me a favor baby, don’t reply/’cause I can dish it out, but I can’t take it,” the opening track off of the Daisy – “Vices” – kicked in and shattered ear drums.

Brand New proceeded to play the majority of their new album, dashing in a song from The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me every now and then, but the focus was clearly on their new material. The band’s light show was enhanced by a giant projector screen at the back of the stage, which got more gruesome as Brand New broke out more and more of the harsher and heavier songs off of Daisy.

Black and white zombies began to eat flesh in time to the bass drum kick, old medical videos became juxtaposed with flower filled fields as “Sink” jumped back and forth between its verses and choruses, and during “Jesus Christ” a human sized candle lit up in reverence as orange heavenly clouds warped in and out of focus overhead. After playing their new single “At The Bottom” the stage once again became dark, band members slinked out silently, and Lacey plucked the fragile notes to “Play Crack The Sky” on his lonely acoustic guitar to end the night. With the audience united in a whispered echo of “I know that this is what you want/a funeral keeps both of us apart/You know that you are not alone/I need you like water in my lungs/This is the end,” all felt complete as we shuffled out of the House of Blues wondering when these bands would hold mass in Florida again.

By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

The summer is almost over. Officially, fall doesn’t kick in until September 22^nd, but for many the splendor of summer ended when classes started. Personally, I’m still holding on to the freedom of the season by spinning the best records that the past three months had to offer. There was a lot to sort through: from Green Day’s widely publicized “21^st Century Breakdown” to the wildly obscure “Constellations” from Christian metal riff masters August Burns Red. However, I’m only bringing you the albums that were blasting on the beach, in the car cruising with the windows down, in smoke filled rooms, and at late hang outs under the stars. In no particular order, here are the top ten albums from the summer of 2009:

Album: Horehound

Band: The Dead Weather

The latest musical offering from White Stripes bluesman Jack White is a super group of sorts featuring members from The Kills, Queens of the Stone Age, and The Raconteurs. This is a dirty blues-rock record with a wide range of sonic flashbacks. A few songs sound like they were stolen straight from the song books of Led Zeppelin, while others are closer to Bob Dylan, and some are even as punk rock as The Clash. Horehound is a wild ride of pure rock and roll.

Key Tracks: “Hang You From The Heavens” and “Treat Me Like Your Mother”

Album: This Will Be The Death Of Us

Band: Set Your Goals

Pop punk is not dead! Coming back strong on their sophomore record, Set Your Goals have created a record that captures the speed, energy, and ferocity of hardcore punk, but with the infectious hooks, sing-a-long choruses, and positive mindset of pop-punk acts like New Found Glory and blink-182. The album covers everything from lost love and tour stories to torture and political reform. This a CD that never has to leave your car.

Key Tracks: “Look Closer” and “The Fallen…”

Album: Old Crows/Young Cardinals

Band: Alexisonfire

Alexisonfire started as an act most called “Screamo” – which normally combines harsh screams with moody melodious signing. However, after a long break the band is back together and reinvented. The new record combines punk rock yells and earthy indie rock crooning to create an equally diverse, but fresh, new sound. With songs of love and oppression, this is a record for a riot.

Key Tracks: “Young Cardinals” and “Sons of Privilege”

Album: Wilco (The Album)

Band: Wilco

If you have neglected Wilco until now, this is the album for you. After pushing the boundaries of the Alt-Country genre on a series of critically acclaimed albums, the band has come back from its experimental fringe to a refined, intelligent, and easily accessible sound. Don’t let the “Country” tag through you off, there’s more rock and roll and folk to hear on this album than most would expect. Wilco (The Album) is a self-aware record to play quiet and relax to, or to turn up and rock out to.

Key Tracks: “Wilco (The Song)” and “Bull Black Nova”

Album: …In Shallow Seas We Sail

Band: Emery

After the band’s aimless third record and some musical meditation Emery is back and true to form. This record echoes the raw intensity of their debut record “The Weak’s End” but with all the layered melodies and crafty song writing that made their second album “The Question” full of songs that won’t leave one’s skull. Whether it’s harsh screams and breakdowns, or dueling counter-point vocals sung over ominous piano chords, this is some of the best that the post-hardcore genre has to offer.

Key Tracks: “Cutthroat Collapse” and “Butcher’s Mouth”

Album: The Satanic Satanist

Band: Portugal. The Man

Pushing past the bizarre band name and beyond the odd album title listeners will find a modern Beatles record. Every song offers a catchy chorus and straightforward song structure, but with experimental tones and thought-provoking lyrics. The piercing falsettos would make Robert Plant (of Led Zeppelin) proud, while the lower backing vocals are full of old southern soul. Though the sound on The Satanic Satanist is vintage it is far from stale; influences from Latin and Hip-Hop to Blues and Classic Rock are spread through out the record’s 11 tracks.

Key Tracks: “People Say” and “Do You”

Album: Happiness

Band: Dance Gavin Dance

This is a party record. From the technical standpoint of a music nerd I would call this an Experimental Emo/Progressive Post-Hardcore record, but in simple terms it’s really just fun. After what seemed like endless line-up changes, which left the drummer as the band’s only original musician, Dance Gavin Dance have finally solidified their members, and with that, their sound. Happiness is a bombastic blend of dancey choruses and hard rock energy. You can literally hear the clinking of glasses and the joyous murmur of good times on the song “Don’t Tell Dave” – a feeling echoed throughout Happiness.

Key Tracks: “Tree Village” and “Don’t Tell Dave”

Album: Salvation Is A Deep Dark Well

Band: The Builders and the Butchers

Refreshment for the ears: in a world of overused auto-tune it’s nice to hear a rusty tired soul reminiscent of Neil Young fronting a band. It almost feels as if The Builders and the Butchers’ instruments are covered in the dirt of the dust bowl, while the simplistic and pounding rhythms of the band’s two percussionists adds a genuine possibility that this band is some kind of folksy 1920s traveling group of troubadours. They carry the stories of the common man – of loss and love, of loneliness, but also of brotherhood.

Key Tracks: “Barcelona” and “Down In This Hole”

Album: It’s All Crazy! It’s All False! It’s All A Dream! It’s Alright

Band: MewithoutYou

MewithoutYou shed the Prog-Rock/Post-Hardcore sound of past releases and channeled the oddball indie rock sound of obscure rock heroes Neutral Milk Hotel. The band itself is stripped down and more acoustic and folky than ever, but with the help of some orchestral instrumentation the album has a full sound that finds trumpets, tubas, and bells dancing in and out of it’s timeless melodies. The parable-based subject matter draws from the Bible and the Qu’ran and begs the listener to follow the artsy imagery of Aaron Weiss’s lyrics into a realistic assessment of one’s purpose and passions.

Key Tracks: “Every Thought A Thought Of You” and “Timothy Hay”

Album: Farm

Band: Dinosaur Jr.

Reunions usually suck, but alt-rock pioneers Dinosaur Jr. have proven to be a pretty happy exception since reforming in 2007. Farm (the group’s second album since their original break-up in 1988) is jammed full with all the stuff that made Dinosaur Jr. great in the first place: Lou Barlow’s chugging bass, Murph’s pounding drums, and (most of all) singer-guitarist J Mascis’s laconic slacker drawl and ear-bleeding guitar solos. The latter is out with particular force on “I Don’t Wanna Go There,” which stretches over nine minutes with its extended soloing, showcasing the contrast between Mascis’s noisy guitar heroics and the quiet melody of his voice. Alright, so Farm may not sound too different from Dino’s early output, but that’s its inimitable strength too: no matter how many others try, it seems like only Dinosaur Jr. can write these songs this well.*

Key Tracks: “I Want You To Know,” “I Don’t Wanna Go There”

*Thank you to the resident Reporter Dinosaur Jr. expert Ryan Napier for the “Farm” review.

Honorable Mentions: The new records from Maylene & The Sons of Disaster, Therefore I Am, and Anchor & Braille.

Check out the article at Stetson University’s The Reporter website HERE.

I woke up and my dreams were a reality.  With the time change across the pond (I’m studying abroad in Scotland currently) it would have been 3am by the time the Grammys were finished and there wasn’t a TV set to be found broadcasting the show anyway.  Normally I stray far away from the mainstream award shows where the music categories merely jerk off album sales over musical integrity, but this year’s show had something only my days of Dickies shorts and summers spent at skate parks could hope for.

I went to sleep with a twisting tornado of rumors spinning around in my head and when I awoke the storm had settled and blink-182 was a band once again.  Message boards became crowded with speculation when MTV announced the trio would be on stage together for the first time since the band announced an “indefinite hiatus” in 2005.

It was said they would simply be giving out the award for “best rock album” (spoiler alert: Coldplay won), but once on stage a nonchalant Travis Barker (drummer) proceeded the award presentation by saying, “we used to play music together… and uh, we decided we’re going to play music together again” shortly followed by an enthusiastic Mark Hoppus (bass guitar, vocals) shouting out, “BLINK-182 IS BACK!” while an awkward Tom DeLonge (guitar, vocals) stood by their side.

The band’s website (www.blink182.com) is revamped and has a brief message from the guys announcing a new album and plans for a full scale world tour by this summer, with new merchandise on sale now.

Blink-182 were my childhood musical heroes and I know many share this feeling.  Within hours of waking up I had an old friend call me exclaiming that we must paint my ’94 Volvo pink, spray-paint the blink-182 smiley face logo across both sides and follow the band across America this summer.  About a quadrillion facebook status updates commented in excitement of the news.

The whole reason I learned to play the drums, why I made shitty bands, why I started listening to music that was vaguely punk, and wandered down a path towards a complete obsession with rock music was because of these guys.  They were poppy enough to get stuck in my head, but punk enough to say “fuck” while being immature enough to talk about erections.

Lyrics from songs like “Story of a Lonely Guy” and “First Date” perfectly described my ineptitude towards the opposite sex.  “Dammit” was a sing-a-long that was the story of my high school days nearly verbatim.  To this day when “All The Small Things” “What’s My Age Again?” or any of the other chart topping hits blink wrote blast out of speakers at a party every single person sings along.

The band’s initial break up was as sad a day for me and, undoubtedly, many others around the world as it was a glorious day when the band reunited… but can they deliver?

It’s been four years since their last tour and six since their last album.  They left a musical legacy with their last album by showing that pop-punk could be fun and catchy while being experimental, intelligent, and emotionally captivating.  They left a legacy with their live show on the unforgettable “Mark, Tom, And Travis Show (The Enema Strikes Back)” live album that combines dangerously fast renditions of the band’s best tunes interspersed with the most absurd bathroom humor ever spoken aloud.

A lot has happened in the last four or so years.  All the band members have married and have had kids.  Hoppus and Barker put out an album under the name +44 while DeLonge put out two albums with Angels & Airwaves.  Barker had a reality show, did a whole bunch of recording with rap artists (which I still don’t completely understand) and almost died in a plane crash.

It’s hard to mess up a pop-punk record.  Though, if their last album is the standard for success they’ve got a lot of work to do to top it.  The mediocrity of all the member’s solo projects could easily clash into a disastrous hodge-podge record with a little bit of everything, but not a bit of anything.  Also, can either Hoppus or DeLonge still sing about ejaculating into a sock or shitting their pants while being 30+ year old fathers and not seem completely fake or just stupid?

I’m crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.  The band has a lot to prove and with a starving fan base ready to clamp their jaws on anything new from the blink-182 camp they don’t have much time to show what they’ve got before people get pissed off.  I’m willing to wait, but I’m also ready to relive my childhood.  The question is: are blink-182 ready to do the same?  The summer of 2009 holds the answers.  Get ready.

America sings Revolution Blues

I made a t-shirt to celebrate Election Day. I wanted to let my fellow academics know how I felt about a certain presidential candidate. The graphic was composed of a silhouetted soldier at arms above the words “We’ll sleep sound when we’re in the ground!” These words were written in a bold stenciled font in all capital lettering above the “McCain 2008″ campaign logo with the little star centered between two bars.

In my first class of the day, two students seated behind me became interested in my art. One asked, “What does your shirt mean?” While the other asked, “Do you support McCain?” I replied, “Yes. Yes I do. I support John McCain because I want to invade Iran and continue the needless killing of American troops.”

One student looked disgusted, the other looked ashamed, and a third person actually made that jaw dropped “only in movies” face of bewilderment. The teacher, upon witnessing the commotion, wandered over to stare at my shirt. In his analysis, he read the shirt’s statement out loud and chuckled, which brought the shirt to the attention of the entire class. I got a few laughs, but it seemed there was a general sense of rage splattered across the entirety of the room.

I was under the impression my message was easy to understand and I had no idea I would run into the disaster of being mistaken as a McCain supporter. I thought the nation was in a liberal leaning ideological state, especially on a college campus. But more importantly I thought people were not this moronic.

My distress rose to a new high when a girl in this same classroom said something along the lines of, “Yeah, I’m not even voting, I’m registered, but I just don’t know enough about either candidate to make a good decision.” Did she live in the same America that I did? It didn’t appear that she had gouged out her eyes or stabbed out her eardrums, but somehow she was able to avoid nearly two years of presidential candidates clogging up every inch of the media.

We do not live in an America where political scientists and avid watchers of C-SPAN are the sole folks enlightened with the workings of politics. From CNN to Comedy Central, hours upon hours of airtime have been spent dealing with the ins and outs of this election. The world of the college student has been barraged with opinions about America’s future.

Every class I’m taking, from Elementary French to American National Government has touched on the presidential race. Groups like the College Democrats and the College Republicans meet regularly. There’s even new group called INDIE that serves to invoke discussion and spread non-partisan political education that has been meeting on campus (I created this group and that was a shameless plug). Anyone willing to use his or her brain for a few minutes can grasp America’s political situation.

The issue here is that most students do not go to meetings. They actively avoid being informed. They intentionally paint themselves a world that is no bigger than the downtown DeLand bar scene. In the end most people would rather put more effort into being uninformed than they would like to put into rationalizing the impact of their decisions. We have lost the motivation of parent’s generation had when they were in college.

America paved the way for Obama to be president forty years ago. They stood up for people other than themselves, they took a challenging path, and made America a better place. They fought the battles and we signed it off. Our generation had a battle to fight, we had the opportunity to change America for the better, but instead most Floridians took the easy way out.

Three states, including Florida, have put gay marriage bans on their constitutions. 59 out of Florida’s 67 counties passed “Amendment 2″ with the over 60% it needed to pass. We finished our parents’ movement, but failed to start our own. Now we our children will have to live with a legacy of our ignorance. You don’t get a free intolerance towards a minority card because you gave the presidency to a different minority. If we can accept Obama’s message of change and join him to change America over the next four years instead of remaining ignorant then we still have a chance to save ourselves.

By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

I am not a costume journalist.  My gimmick is not to dress up in absurd attire and reflect on it.  And this article is certainly not part two of my “Just Being an Asshole” piece.  However, allow me to describe to you something I wore a few days ago.

I made a t-shirt to celebrate Election Day.  I purchased an iron-on graphic kit from the child’s craft section at Wal-Mart, popped a sheet of this magical transfer paper into my printer, and hit enter to spit out a Photoshop design I made while procrastinating and abdicating homework a few weeks back.

The graphic was composed of a silhouetted soldier at arms.  The dark figure resembled a green army man from the days of my childhood; a stiff and unmoving, lifeless figure with a machine gun stuck diagonally across his chest like a drooping, broken cross.  This soldier rose out of dark black ink above the words “We’ll sleep sound when we’re in the ground!”  These words were written in a bold stenciled font in all capital lettering above the “McCain 2008” campaign logo with the little star centered between two bars.

After learning how to use an iron, I pasted my creation to a white V-neck t-shirt and strode off to class.  In-between workbook exercises two students seated behind me became interested in my art.  One asked, “What does your shirt mean?”  While the other asked, “Do you support McCain?”  In a perplexed state of awe I sarcastically replied, “Yes.  Yes I do.  I support John McCain because I want to invade Iran and continue the needless killing of American troops.”

This was not well received.  One student looked disgusted, the other looked ashamed, and a third person drawn in by my statement, actually made that jaw dropped “only in movies” face of bewilderment.  The teacher, upon witnessing the commotion, wandered over to stare at my shirt.  In his analysis, he read the shirt’s statement out loud and chuckled, which brought the shirt to the attention of the entire class.  I got a few laughs, but it seemed there was a general sense of rage splattered across the entirety of the room.

I was under the impression my message was easy to understand and I had no idea I would run into the disaster of being mistaken as a McCain supporter.  I thought the nation was in a liberal leaning ideological state, especially on a college campus.  But more importantly I thought people were not this moronic.

My distress rose to a new high when a girl in this same classroom said something along the lines of, “Yeah, I’m not even voting, I’m registered, but I just don’t know enough about either candidate to make a good decision.”  Did she live in the same America that I did?  It didn’t appear that she had gouged out her eyes or stabbed out her eardrums, but somehow she was able to avoid nearly two years of presidential candidates clogging up every inch of the media.

We do not live in an America where only political scientists and avid watchers of C-SPAN are the sole folks enlightened with the workings of politics.  From CNN to Comedy Central, hours upon hours of airtime have been spent dealing with the ins and outs of this election.  The world of the college student has been barraged with opinions of America’s future.

Whether you listen to rock or rap there has been someone out there shouting his or her opinion at you.  While I spent a night at an Against Me! concert that had more anti-Bush and McCain songs than I can count on my hands, Jay-Z was bashing Palin before kicking into “I Got 99 Problems (But A Bitch Ain’t One).”

Every class I’m taking, from Elementary French to American National Government has touched on the presidential race.  Groups like the College Democrats and the College Republicans meet regularly.  There’s even new group called INDIE that serves to invoke discussion and spread non-partisan political education that has been meeting on campus (I created this group and that was a shameless plug).  Anyone willing to use his or her brain for a few minutes can grasp America’s political situation.

But maybe some people don’t get out.  It’s possible that most people never go to a meeting.  Maybe they never change their T.V.s from “Paris Hilton’s My New BFF” show.  Maybe they do get out, but they just don’t realize that there is a world bigger than the downtown DeLand bar scene.

I’m proud of America for trying something new and I’m excited for our future.  But more was at stake here than just a presidential election.  Three states, including Florida, have put gay marriage bans on their constitutions.  High five assholes!  There was talk of the “Bradley Effect” as the election approached; the idea that everyone will say they will vote for an African American, that race plays no issue, but when it comes to Election Day everyone does something cowardly on their ballots.

Well, that wasn’t the case, but something similar happened… in the public eye, in a classroom discussion, while around people whose sexual orientations were unknown, nearly everyone said, “We are the same.  We are equal.”  But when it came time to vote 59 out of Florida’s 67 counties passed “Amendment 2” with over 60%, which it needed to pass.

It is disgusting to imagine how many brainless bigots are wandering the streets of this state, but what is even more repulsive is that hardly anyone realized that this amendment fucks over old people too.  Anyone that is living together and not married loses the benefits they deserve.  Some Floridians do truly hate old people, but it seems that most Floridians are just stupid people.

In a world where all the world’s knowledge is only a click away we’ve become too lazy to even move our fingers over the mouse and push down.  For those of you that think Barack Obama is going to single handedly save America and for those that think he’s going to run it into the ground, do your research, take a few seconds, and realize you are all wrong.

“It is wiser to find out than to suppose.” – Mark Twain

Upcoming Albums
By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

Jack’s Mannequin – The Glass Passenger:
Andrew McMahon (chief songwriter, vocalist, and piano player of the band) has done it again.  This album stripped away the mediocrity of the band’s debut album, took everything that was so enjoyable from the last time around and multiplied that substance ten fold.  If you liked Everything In Transit, you will love this release.  If a few lines from the last album got stuck in your head or made you sing along, then your mind will be consumed by the witty jabs, blunt sentiments, and infectious hooks this album holds.
-Musical style: Indie rock infused with piano and pop sensibilities.
-Release date: September 30th

Anberlin – New Surrender:
Anberlin have gotten progressively better since their first days a standard emo rockers with Christian influences.  New Surrender combines that same core of emotional lyricism known to Anberlin fans with building anathematic songs that beg to be key pieces of an epic movie soundtrack.  Some songs strip everything down and allow for quiet introspection.  Other songs are more hard rock than ever.  One song even dabbles in alt-pop reminiscent of Maroon 5 (who I hate, but somehow these guys pull it off).  “Misearbile Visu (Ex Malo Bonum)” – is the album closer and the band’s best song to date.
-Musical style: Cinematic emo rock mixed with some heaviness and some popiness.
-Release date: September 30th

Bayside – Shudder:
After being impressed by Bayside’s last effort, I wasn’t really sure they could improve on their formula.  Somehow they’ve stepped it up again.  The lyrics are more poignant, the choruses are catchier, the guitar solos are more bombastic (in a good way), and the chanting gang vocals refused to do anything but be blasted at full volume with the listener singing along.  The album has its repetitive points, but it is a fun release the whole way through.
Musical style:  Emo rock with a unique vocal sound – i.e. not whiny or high pitched (a big surprise these days) – with a taste of indie and good old rock and roll.

Emery – While Broken Hearts Prevail – EP:
After releasing I’m Only A Man to a swarm of unsatisfied fans, Emery goes back to their roots with an EP offering up eight new songs.  The raw rock feel of their debut album is back, but with a new maturity that holds on to the melodic understandings that became apparent in later releases.  It’s a short run that throws in songs that make you want to do everything from sing and dance to flail around moshing with the breakdowns.
Musical style: Screamo and post-hardcore meet up with introspective melodies and tad bit of pop.
Release date: October 28th

Senses Fail – Life Is Not A Waiting Room:
If their new single is any indication of what the album holds, get ready for the original punk feel of From The Depths of Dreams – EP combined with the catchy, guitar solo laden songs of Still Searching.
Musical style: Screamo, punk, emo.
Release date: October 28th

Manchester Orchestra – Let My Pride Be What’s Left Behind – EP:
This EP provides a taste of what the band is brewing up for their upcoming album.  It includes to new songs, a few live songs, and a phenomenal DVD documentary.  If you do not listen to these fellows, you really need to.
Musical style: Indie rock with driving guitar, melodic organ, and painfully engaging lyrics.
Release Date: October 14th

Tom Gabel (of Against Me!) – Heart Burns – EP:
Tom Gabel goes solo and goes back to the days of Reinventing Axl Rose.  That raw punk yell, those fist pumping sing-a-longs, bluntly political lyrics, and a presence of honest angst should pour out your speakers with this release.
Musical style: Folk rock meets punk.
Release date: October 28th

Don’t forget to look out for new releases in the next couple of weeks from:
The Night Watchman, Rise Against, Unearth, Haste The Day, Copeland, Funeral For A Friend, Escape The Fate, Fear Before (The March of Flames), and many others

By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

To see the version ran in Stetson University’s The Reporter click here.

Orlando’s House of Blues overflowed with an ocean of fans on October 15th when Underoath sold out the venue for the first time in the band’s history.  Underoath rose from the swamps of Ocala, FL and after playing shows in the area for a decade, they finally had to turn fans away.

The show began with an unexpected opener.  A radical leftist rapper named P.O.S. took the stage before the barrage of Emo, Screamo, and Metal that was later to come.  P.O.S. spat out rhymes from songs like “Half-Cocked Concepts” that started with, “First of all, Fuck Bush/That’s all, that’s the end of it” while a select few of utterly classy audience members spat back into his face.

The violence was taken with stride and P.O.S. finished the song to take a break and give a little monologue on the guaranteed terror America could expect from the wonderful Republican woman running as McCain’s Vice President.  This riled the audience up enough for fists to start swinging into faces and for security to swoop in.  In the end P.O.S. put on a solid performance for a genre that drastically conflicted with the rest of the concert’s bill.  He let the audience know that he would be at his merch table for the rest of the show talking politics with anyone that was civil enough to hold a conversation.

The second act of the night was The Devil Wears Prada, an abrasive Christian metalcore band.  The band pulled off the complex song structures and virtuoso musicianship showcased on their studio albums in a live setting, but Mike Hranica’s throaty vocals were rough to say the least.  Though they were better than when I saw them on Warped tour this summer I think I can safely say that this band sucks.  If you are going to make your voice contrast between the sounds of angels being raped (high-pitched screams) and demons being exorcised (low growling screams) at least be able to pull it off without studio effects.  This band needs to drop the meathead frontman or cease to exist.

A contingency of moshy brosephs departed the floor to pillage the bar as Saosin stumbled on stage to a thunderous cry of joy.  The inconsistency between the band’s performance and presentation was astounding.  The fingers of Saosin’s guitarists danced up and down their instruments necks while the bombastic complexities of their drummer filled the air, but something was off.  The powerful, cathartic, and catchy tunes sounded spot on.  The band’s lead singer, Cove Reber, was even blasting out each high note just as their producer Howard Benson had crafted back in the studio.

It was clear by the third song where the disorder came from when Cove decided to sing while… laid down, head in hands, on the floor of the stage.   The once clean-cut Cove, with a fashion show ready haircut and wardrobe looked like a bum.  The loose jeans, unbuttoned brown and red plaid shirt, long and greasy dreadlocks, and scrappy beard combination were certainly a new look.  Yet, somehow it was likeable, even beautiful, kind of reminiscent of Jim Morrison, before his death of course.  Regardless, the band was at top form and the two new songs they played were a taste of something great to come.

I’ve been told by more people than I can count on my hand that “Underoath suck live!”  From all the evidence I have gathered in my studies I have found such claims to be completely false and ridiculous.  Maybe hot summers and long tours wear them out, but it just so happened that the events I witnessed recently took place during a home ground show on the kick-off date of the tour.  The band was fresh and full of energy.  Either Underoath has made massive leaps and bounds as performers or I have spoken with too many idiots in my time.

Underoath has unquestionably made steps forward musically.  On their latest album, “Lost In The Sound Of Seperation” the band ripped apart the guidelines and stereotypes of modern heavy music and the cookie cutter elements of screamo.  Their combination of technical metal and ambient melodic emotional rock should be the scene’s new standard of excellence.

Aaron Gillespie was able to drum with all the ferocity of prolific greats like Keith Moon or John Bonham while belting out the highest notes of his career as clean as if he wasn’t even behind the kit.  Spencer Chamberlin, generally known as “the screamer,” and least musical member of the band, not only sang clean, powerful, and true; but he also played rhythm guitar on a handful of songs.  Even Chris Dudely, who has always been confined to keyboards and programming branched out to alternate percussion.  An extra bass, snare, tom, and hi-hat cymbal added epic crescendos to a handful of the live set’s highlights.

Overall, Underoath was the most enjoyable and exciting band of the night.  Switching between chaotically and destructively heavy discordance and beautiful and lush melodic masterpieces the band left the audience chanting “One more song!”  Underoath came back on stage after their full set that spanned the most outstanding tracks of all three of their latest albums and said “You know what?  You’ve been so good we’ll play two songs for you!”  If you feel like you missed out, because you most certainly did, Underoath will be closing their American tour back in Florida at Tampa’s The Ritz on November 25th.

By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

(The Stetson University Reporter online version can be seen here.)

I decided to walk in someone else’s shoes for a day. I was looking for change and an interesting new way to endure one of those fraternity “dress to pin” days. In short, I decided to be an asshole for a day.

It began with the outfit. I was at some cheap outlet, possibly Beall’s, looking for shorts to no avail when I stumbled across a pair of sea foam green (vomit/putrid swamp colored) boat shoes. The urge to get these disgustingly composed Sperry Topsiders at an unbelievable price took me by storm. Sporting these in some kind of mocking ironic fashion would really make my day.

Then I was struck by an epiphany. I began to wonder, “Just what other frat-tastic/sailor-esque/ultra-preppy clothing items were available to add to this nonsense?” It turned out there was plenty of fun to be had. I ended getting a tie to match the shoes and one of those belts covered in all the important waving nautical flags any knowledgeable first-mate should know.

I decided to sport the belt, tie, and heinous shoes with some slim-fit khakis and an equally slender extra small white dress shirt… but what really topped it off was the brown with gold trim Dragon brand “stunna shades” that graced my face. I had never heard this term before until I put said shades on and was complimented by a random stranger. The shades covered more than just my eyes, consuming at least 67% of my face, letting two giant rounded rectangles wrap around my head.

After a full day of classes with this attire I learned something not only about myself, but something about college students, and maybe even America in general. I expected to get the same odd looks I often get while sporting skintight jeans like the emo kid that I am. Instead I was showered in smiles, head nods, and unspoken telepathic high-fives.

I have never had so many beautiful girls look straight into my eyes and smile. A few even turned their heads away, bashful, as I walked by. With my face half covered by the “stunna shades” I could easily stare right back and smile or nod without really making eye contact, seeming full of an outgoing demeanor I’m not known for. I even had a completely straight male say, “Lookin’ good!” out of his opening full-face grin.

Now there certainly were some people staring and smiling trying to hold back laughter, but they were a minority. But by the end of the day I felt smug as all hell and didn’t have a full grasp on this phenomenon.

I came to the conclusion that it takes confidence to pull off such an outfit. And though I’m far from the most confident person I know, I was perceived to have this characteristic solely based on looks. I was a book judged merely by my cover. People prize confidence.

Another realization came to me from a friend. When I asked him, “On a scale of one to ten, how big of an asshole do I look like today?” He replied with, “I don’t know, probably around a thirteen.” I mentioned the observations of the day and he seemed to think that a desired confidence from onlookers was only one piece of the puzzle. He seemed to think that my dressing like an endowed daddy’s trust fund boy was the biggest factor in gaining female attention. People love money.

So it turns out that a ‘stylish’ outfit combined with an inflated chest and a smug smile can capture the care of nearly anyone. With an air of confidence and a presentation of wealth, power is yours.

This is why girls wake up from blacked-out nights with the clothes I mentioned strewn across their floors. With enough money in your pocket, who cares how ridiculous you look? By transcending the standards of normal clothing you transcend societies standards of realism. You can engage anyone, take on any task, and those around you will assume you happen to know what you are doing. This is all simply because they assume your stupid clothing is related to some higher understanding of fashion that common people have yet to fathom: You know more, therefore you are more.

This is why the US government is about to throw $700 billion to bailout some corporations that presented themselves as wealthy until they suddenly folded penniless. Now this was obviously not the result of obnoxious outfits, but rather a bloated and assured presentation to unknowing onlookers. Everyday these stockbrokers dressed like I did but they had more confidence than I could muster, enough to cheat $5,000 out of every American. With enough cash handouts to government officials and enough PR guys to avert the eyes of the press you can rape an entire country with your confidence.

Being an asshole doesn’t come without a price though… those damn boats shoes gave me blisters.

(The Stetson University Reporter online version can be seen here.)

Bo Diddley died over the summer and the world kept turning. No one forgot how to play guitar. No one forgot how to write a song or sing a note. No one really seemed to care. Why should anyone care? Was Bo Diddley still relevant or interesting to anyone besides music critics and historians? I don’t care and neither do you. This is pathetic. Modern music is pathetic. The reason being is that there are no more Bo Diddleys.

The truth is black people don’t play guitar anymore. This is why I don’t listen to the radio. This is why the Billboard Top 40 is full of mostly substance-less songs. This is why modern music is stagnant, boring, and repetitive.

Ever since the majority of music listeners started craving ‘hits’ – instead of classical symphonies, big bands, and improvisers of jazz – white people have been stealing from black people and getting rich from it. The day Robert Johnson picked up a guitar the world changed. Johnson invented rock music, plain and simple. Who got famous? People like Elvis.

If you look at everything that made Elvis so memorable you see everything that Arthur Crudup, Rufus Thomas, and B.B. King had been doing for years. Two things set Elvis apart. One: Elvis was a cheesier, more pop oriented, cheap rip-off of the blues artists he adored. Two: Elvis got media attention for being controversial. And the reason he was so controversial was that he was a white guy doing things only black people had done. White people didn’t know what to do. So, they all freaked out and started spending all their money on Elvis records.

Fast-forward a few years to the widespread pandemonium of rock n’ roll. Though the members of Led Zeppelin are known to many as “The Gods of Rock,” they are simply the disciples. Led Zeppelin were not secretive about their stolen sound. The group openly proclaimed Robert Johnson as one of their major influences. Led Zeppelin were so consumed by the music of African Americans that they didn’t mind being blunt about the robberies they committed. The introduction to “Bring It On Home” is stolen note for note from a Sonny Boy Williamson II song (an African American musician).

Led Zeppelin were actually so open about their influence that they didn’t even bother writing some of the lyrics for “Whole Lotta Love.” Instead they opted to steal a few lines from “You Need Love” – a song originally performed by the black musician Willie Dixon. Zeppelin didn’t walk away without a lawsuit, but white people didn’t seem to notice.

It isn’t hard to see this trend throughout the majority of classic rock. The Rolling Stones’ first handful of albums were filled with black musicians’ cover songs. The Doors played plenty of old blues jams live and had blues-based studio songs with appropriate titles like “Roadhouse Blues” and “Shaman’s Blues.” So many famous rock musicians made their mark by either playing dumbed down pop versions or a ‘trippy’ stoned versions of the black man’s blues.

Black people moved on. They did not forget their heritage; they just noticed they were being ripped-off with mostly no recognition so they decided to pioneer new genres like soul, motown, hip-hop, and rap. Just as white people made half-assed knock-offs of the blues, white people actually tried to rap! The 80′s brought Vanilla Ice, the 90′s brought Eminem, and now the 21st century has been taken over by the most horrendous music ever.

Widespread plagiarism has led to groups like Metro Station, who try to fuse the whitest genres (like pop-punk and emo) with inherently black genres (like hip-hop). Fall Out Boy’s “This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race” emulates this butchery perfectly. Thumping bass and soul like vocals eminent from a band once known as punk to at least some people. The song reached number 1 on the pop charts. Now we have idiots like 3OH!3 trying to mix gangster-rap and pop-rock. It is a disaster.

Black people either need to start playing guitar again or they need to create an influential genre white people can steal from without fucking it up.

“Get rid of bad music now.”

By: Paul G. Atkinson IV

“Respect your elders.”

This is a notion far too often misinterpreted. Respect for your elders does not simple mean respect the past, respect what is old, and what has simply existed before you. What was supposed to be said here was: “Respect the wise.”

A lot of old people are wise. But, a lot of old people are batshit insane, bigoted, deranged, mentally ill, and completely worthless. Both these statements are true of old bands.

Respect the founders who shaped the music you listen to today. Respect Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Buddy Rich, Robert Johnson etc… but even the greats can’t be accepted fully. Don’t just eat what they feed you. Only respect what is actually good.

For example: Only respect The Who’s material before Keith Moon died. Only respect The Rolling Stones before they dabbled in disco and Alt-country. Simply do not listen to the songs Rush wrote during their synth period. Do not under any circumstances try to appreciate anything the Sex Pistols did besides “Never Mind The Bollocks” because everything else is a cash grab embarrassment.

Now, once you’ve got that down, once you’ve thrown out The Doors albums without Jim Morrison and said, “Fuck Wings, that shit is not the Beatles!” now it’s time to reject the albums of your youth.

Chances are that only a few albums that came out during your lifetime are worth keeping. Keep in kind the following:

“Original” doesn’t necessarily mean “memorable.” Some say Nirvana is an over-rated band. Well, guess what? They are. Still, it’s worth keeping their albums, they’re influential and listenable. This is different from bands like Fugazi, who, though very influential, are not listenable at all. In fact, they serve no purpose anymore but that of historical reference. You are allowed to name drop them, but never love them.

“Progressive” does not mean “influential.” Every album that you own, that when you turn on and crank up the volume elicits this conversation…

Best friend: “Dude, what the fuck are we listening to!?!?”

Your response: “Just listen to how complex this is man! They’re crazy musicians!!!”
…should simply be thrown out.

A band is never automatically good just because it is comprised of good musicians. There is simply no correlation. This is why The Ramones are good and Dream Theater sucks. This is why The Clash are great on “London Calling” but are forgettable on “Sandinista!” This why bands like The #12 Looks Like You and Genghis Tron are only loved by people who hate pop music, but can’t write anything listenable themselves. This is the reason people like Steve Vai, Terry Bozio, Joe Satrianni, Mike Portnoy, Les Claypool, and all the like are simply worthless.

In no way at all does “I loved that as a kid” mean “This album will never get old, boring, or leave its place in my heart.” While cleaning house this summer I found my childhood record collection – which was unhidden, simply because I had learned to ignore its existence. There were records from bands such as LFO, Backstreet Boys, N’Sync, and 98 Degrees…

It is not my fault I grew up in an age where boy bands raped the youth of the land. It is not my fault that those bands were popular before I bought my own albums and people like my grandma were the source of my CD collection. What is completely and unforgivably my fault is the fact that I did not huck every one of those albums out my window, into a fire, or into the ocean.

Bad music simply needs to be eradicated from this earth. It is as simple as that.