Crocs next step with campus tour
By CARLY FAIN | Sep. 10, 2008Crocs, Inc. and 360 Productions are collaborating for the Crocs Next Step Campus Tour, which will be rolling into Gainesville on Sept. 14.
Crocs, Inc. and 360 Productions are collaborating for the Crocs Next Step Campus Tour, which will be rolling into Gainesville on Sept. 14.
Caution: Objects in your rearview mirror are older than they appear.
Why? is all about asking questions. Ask front man Yoni Wolf why call a band Why? and he'll shoot back, "Why not?"
Minus one organ and plus one new baby, the husband-and-wife musical team Mates of State return to Gainesville for the first time since March 2006. Known for their organ and drum arrangement and catchy, complex pop harmonies, the indie-rock duo shed their signature organ sound on the new album, "Re-Arrange Us." Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel will be toting the new keyboards and their daughters, Magnolia and new addition June, on the road with them Sept. 13 and 14 to the Real Big Deal Festival at the Alachua County Fairgrounds. Calling from a houseboat in the middle of a lake, Hammel discusses the band's rearrangements, what it's like touring with two young daughters and why America is ready for change.
AVE: So, what are you doing right now?
Pop-punk band Motion City Soundtrack has been funkifying festival scenes since its formation in 1997 and rocking around the world with the likes of Blink 182, Fall Out Boy and Incubus. The band, which is now working on its fourth album following the success of "Commit This to Memory," will perform in Gainesville at the Real Big Deal Festival on Sept. 13. Bassist and back-up vocalist Matthew Taylor talks with the Alligator about the band's future, travel habits and what they love about the festival scene.
It was an ordinary day when Three Legged Dawg band member Billy Ray took a walk in his yard. His dog had taken a dump in the grass. To his amazement, a butterfly was perched on the excrement as if to symbolize the triumph of freedom and beauty over ¾ well, crap.
In terms of sheer size, the only thing larger than "…Earth to the Dandy Warhols…" is Courtney Taylor-Taylor's massive ego. It would be irresponsible to credit the growth of said persona to past experience this kind of megalomania you're born with but those once-coveted Seth Cohen playlist adds and the exposure in 1960s revivalist doc Dig! couldn't have helped matters. Having since mistaken Sundance for the Academy and obscurity for fame, Taylor and his Dandy band shed the limitations of their modest guitar rock orientation, and with this latest paralysis-inducing, hour-plus space jam, permanently shoot to hell any lingering pop flirtations in favor of misfired trance drones, none of which will be featured in a K-Swiss commercial. "Earth" is the kind of brazen kiss off you'd expect from a man with two last names.
For those strolling past the dimly lit bar windows of 1982 on a Monday night, be prepared to witness something other than locals watering down their worries. Instead, bystanders might find Gainesville's rock star wannabes imitating the greats on popular music video games such as Rock Band and Guitar Hero.
Their venue burned down in Boone, N.C., They played to a crowd of more than 100. They played to a crowd of less than 10. They were greeted by a shotgun-wielding man in the mountains while attempting to find another venue, a house party thrown by people on house arrest.
A blustery force of innate headwinds faces every incoming freshman at UF, and that's before you count the crappy weather. For starters, there's the budget deficit strangling the liberal arts program (hope you're good at engineering!) and, for those who get hosed by the lottery system, the impossibility of scoring football tickets without selling a kidney. These challenges may seem daunting but manageable with determination and a spare organ.
Feeling the pinch yet? Getting squeezed at the pump? Gouged at the grocery store? Not to worry. While Congress waffles over another round of stimulus checks and Sen. John McCain whets the collective petroleum appetite by dangling a gas tax holiday just out of reach of this nation's penny-pinching fingertips, Nine Inch Nails is actually offering a whiff of wallet-sparing practicality.
"We're from Oakland, Calif., but we love Chicago," was the sentiment echoed by Zach Rogue after his band, Rogue Wave, ended their first song for Lollapalooza 2008. As tens of thousands descended upon Grant Park, it was hard to imagine anyone disagreeing with the statement. Lines were long and seat-saving situations grew tense, even downright nasty as the Chicago sun began to set. But these moments couldn't ruin the eventful and eclectic weekend of music.
Being the son of a famous band member has its perks.
For all those who don't get their nightly fill of Entertainment Tonight, let me recount the story of Miami native and fast food enthusiast Tamien Bain. A self-described "up-and-coming" rapper, Bain penned a Big Mac chant (a la "two all beef patties…") and was one of five finalists contending to replace the sandwich's original jingle by way of an online 40th anniversary contest. Here's the rub: Bain held up a McDonald's when he was 14.
Being the son of a famous band member has its perks.
Life isn't fair, and you need not tell this to The Hold Steady. In any justice-esteeming society, 2006's critically adored "Boys and Girls in America," an album crammed with hook-filled sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll throwbacks, would have landed the band the fanatical arena, following its unofficial designation as the scraggly incarnation of The E Street Band. Instead, they got a few nods in year-end polls and a billing on last year's Lollapalooza poster that was only slightly more visible than The Fratellis.
It is time to once again review some of the albums that have been stacking up and spilling over in the office. In the month since my last rapid-fire review, the CDs have multiplied like gremlins in a swimming pool. Fortunately, the music seems less dismal than in the past endeavor.
Bands come and go in Gainesville with the four-year cycle of students filtering through the college town.
For most, 38th birthdays come and go with little cause for contemplation. For Beck - alpha loser, fifth Beatle, fourth Beastie Boy - 38 means finding himself knee-deep in a mid-life crisis, contemplating worldly ills and taking stock in a self-destructing society that's making a beeline for the pit of hell.