This new film about Oasis’s glory years is rousing, heart-rending and really f**king funny
For a certain breed of American rock'n'roller, there's nothing cooler than the short-order cook from Texas who once saw mighty strange lights in the skies over Dallas ...
The Reverend Horton Heat, along with Man Or Astroman? and Rocket From The Crypt, are not so much dashing '50s speed kings as grunge relics, still stuck in a time where TV evangelism and the bloody Roswell Incident might just pass as nail-bitingly controversial. 'Pride Of San Jacinto' (sample lyric: "Hoo! Hah!") might have the Link Wray twang mentality down, but much of 'Space Heater' is sheet metal - 'Jimbo's Song' is 'Ace Of Spades' forced into satin trousers and a foolish quiff, while 'Goin' Manic' is Faith No More on a really bad hair day. It doesn't, however, make up for the baccy-dribbling hoe-down of 'The Prophet Stomp', nor the Booze Explosion clatter of 'Baby, I'm Drunk'. It's evil, but not in the way they crave.
But that's the way they like it, baby. They don't want to live forever. Which, given the sales potential of this record, is probably just as well.
Delving into the murk and noise of their past, the Boston veterans’ second post-reunion album is a superlative indie rock collection
Two kings of the indie dancefloor unite for a warm, timeless take on 20th century pop and rock
This unruly second album delivers a sucker punch to anyone who had the Kent duo down as a novelty act
Justin Vernon’s third Bon Iver album is a weird and wonderful thing