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Broward County's the Postmarks have the music industry paying attention to their sugary sounds in a big way. It may have taken two years to put out their debut, self-titled album, but now that it's on shelves, everyone from Spin to the New Pornographers seems to want a piece of them. The reason they draw so much attention is because of the Brian Wilson-like rock that they churn out with the stellar songwriting of band member Christopher Moll. That's made them the new emo darlings of college radio, and it doesn't hurt that lead singer Tim Yehezkely is as dreamy as they come. Her melodic voice (yes, Tim is a she) and baby-soft tone is potent enough to make a grown man cry. The Postmarks sing of love lost and of heartache, not a subject that's underrepresented in the pop universe. But they do it so much better than most.
As for the Denver-based Apples in Stereo...well, shit, we don't know as much about them as we should. Then again, this isn't the Westword, so go read that rag if you want to learn more about them.
Wait...actually, go check out the show tonight at the Culture Room and you'll find out everything there is to know. --Jonathan Cunningham

I like Rilo Kiley. I can’t help but groove to their country-inspired brand of indie rock loosely influenced by Straight Outta Compton, De La Soul, and The Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique. I find vocalist Jenny Lewis’s quirky, choppy, and occasionally incomprehensible lyrics and pleasantly girlish voice refreshing. I like when asked what “Rilo Kiley” means, guitarist Blake Sennett gives a plethora of equally insane answers which includes Rilo Kiley being a character in one of his dreams who predicted the date of Lewis’ death. I also feel a nostalgic connection towards the bands’ humbling child star roots which includes Lewis’s role in my childhood slumber-party-staple Troop Beverly Hills and Sennett starring as one of my first memorable crushes in Nickelodeon’s Salute Your Shorts.

Yet, I have no love for “Give a Little Love” -- the last track on Rilo Kiley’s new album Under the Black Light. To me, its cheesy electric beats sound like a musical sequel to Kip Dynamite’s, “Always and Forever” and should -- along with Lewis’ white-girl butchering of the Spanish language in “Dejalo” -- be fed to a hungry llama. Yet, I fell immediately for the Black Light after my first listen to the opening tune “Silver Lining”, and I’m totally sweet on “Dreamworld” where Sennett and Lewis’s hushed and intermingled voices conjure anything but fatalistic forecasts.

In fact, every song on the album feels like a hit or miss, which reflects the album’s mixed reviews. Rolling Stone and musicOMH.com found it to be a bold new move which may take fans of a band a few listens to appreciate. Hartford Courant called it superficial and Pitchfork claimed Black Light was “not a commercial album so much as Rilo Kiley's conception (or misconception) of what a commercial album is.”

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Rap City won't be on in the afternoons anymore. The show is moving to 1 a.m., and BET is filling its old afternoon time-slot with some other video-block show. And honestly, I'm not even sure why I care. For one thing, I never watch the show in the afternoon anyway. And it'll still be on, so I'll still be able to stick with my old daily ritual, fast-forwarding through 80% of the previous day's DVRed episode while I'm eating my Lucky Charms every morning. And for another thing, the show has been god-awful terrible ever since Big Tigger quit the host position two years ago. A lot of people didn't like Tigger; he was definitely prone to mugging for the camera too much and showing off whatever shitty drawings some viewer just mailed him. But I liked Tigger. He had an unforced amiability, and he always managed to be respectful of his guests without getting too ingratiating or ass-kissy. It was fun to watch him in the booth, cracking up at the other rappers' punchlines and then jumping in for his own goofy little mini-freestyle at the end. Ever since Tigger left, things have gone to shit. The show has had three hosts, each more witless and irritating than the last: Mad Linx, J-Nicks, and most recently the utterly detestable Q45. Q45 is just the worst. Rather than actually interviewing his guests, he just sort of fawns all over them and parrots whatever they said at the camera with more yelling. Here's a typical exchange. Rapper X: "Yeah, so I've got a line of contact lenses coming out." Q45: "Please understand, people! This man just said he has a line of contact lenses coming out!" Rapper X: "Yeah, and, uh, Paul Wall is on my album." Q45: "Hold up. Do you understand the magnitude of what this man is saying to you right now? Paul Wall is on his album! This is crazy! I don't think these people understand." BET is legendarily chintzy about paying their on-air talent, but I seriously can't believe they couldn't find anyone more qualified than this guy.

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Reggae star Mavado, who just performed at the Gold Coast Roller Rink in Fort Lauderdale a week ago, was robbed on Tuesday in Toronoto. According to reports, most of Mavado's belongings were stolen including a laptop, money, and his passport. As a result, Mavado has cancelled his upcoming shows (Atlanta and Trinidad are pissed off) as he's literally stuck in Canada without any travel documents.
Bumbaclaat!!
Read more about it here. --Jonathan Cunningham

BMG will get you gooey

Michelle F. Solomon

The Blue Man Group
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Universal Studios Citywalk, Orlando

Better Than: Late night TV's stupid human tricks.

The Blue Man Group has been a staple of Greenwich Village for almost two decades. I saw them a few years ago at the tiny Astor Place Theater. It really was one of those shows you'd only find in a Pop-Tart box sized place in New York City. The intimate setting of the rundown theater (the arm of my seat fell off midway through the performance) made the show all the more fun.

The Blue Man Group has graduated since their humble beginnings. Now with shows in residence in Boston, Chicago, Las Vegas, Amsterdam and even Berlin, the trio of shiny blue characters adds another notch in the PVC pipe by taking up residence in Orlando at Universal Studios.

Housed in the Sharp Aquos Theater (a far cry from Astor Place; here you won't find stadium seats where arms fall off), the Blue Man Group's Stage 18 used to be where they filmed Nickelodeon shows for most of the 1990s. It's fitting since BMG shares Nickelodeon's affinity for goo.

The three alien-like men, who don't speak and whose faces are covered with shiny blue masks, spew so much goo and other substances that there are actually Poncho rows, where I happily sat. If you're planning on seeing BMG, definitely spend the extra bucks to be parked in the Poncho section. A complimentary plastic rain poncho is hung on the back of your seat to keep you away from various items that are thrust from the stage into the first 20 rows – a Jell-O mold sprung from a board barely missed my head.

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Dropkick Murphys w/ HorrorPops
September 25, 2007
Revolution, Ft. Lauderdale

Dropkick Murphys
Photos by Jamie Puntumkhul

Better than: Three accidental fists to the face due to an ardently chanted Oi! trinity.

The Review: I have somewhat of an obsession with that span of time between an opening band’s wasted plea to stick around for the headlining band and that headliner’s first vibrating, pluck of a bass. Not because I’m OCD or have some kind of nerdy fascination with space, time or continuums, but because I’m a cynic. After years of attending shows and sometimes waiting an entire hour (or more) to see an uninspiring performance, I’ve convinced myself that if a band takes more than 30 minutes between sets to start a show they’re either a) Too drunk to remember they’re supposed to be playing a gig, b) Shaving their balls d) Shaving their mom’s balls, because shitfaces with absolutely no regard for their fans HAVE to have moms with balls. Big, saggy, hairy balls.

But, being that I’ve never been in a band or even backstage pre-show, I really have no idea what goes on before a band sets foot onstage. I just know I don’t like to wait, and neither did the Fire-Marshall’s-nightmare of a crowd present at Revolution Tuesday night.

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Hey, sometimes there's no underestimating high school principals. Who knew a publicity snap of four skinny rockers could amount, in the eyes of one, to porn?

The band in question: All Time Low, a poppy, punky, quartet from the suburbs of Baltimore, who just released their debut full-length, So Wrong, It's Right, yesterday on Fearless Records. A middle-school age fan named Rea, a student at Magnolia Middle School in Harford County, MD caught with the pic hanging outside her locker and was suspended for *three* days.

(Ed. note: Things must be slow at public schools in exurban Maryland... You could be pushin' keys at my Miami high school and only get three days' suspension, as long as you didn't shoot anyone on school grounds.)

Sez Rea: "I'm annoyed and bothered by the fact my principle called the picture 'porn.' I've seen way worse Chris Brown pictures."

Frontman Alex Gaskarth responded with the sort of loveably bratty cheek we'd expect:

"Personally, I'm a little upset that anyone would find that picture to be 'offensive.' We tried our very hardest to look as sexy as possible and I think that maybe the administrative figures responsible for suspending the student were just jealous of our dashing, young physiques. I don't see any harm in carrying that particular picture around in a school environment. In fact, I've been speculating that studies may prove that the picture actually stimulates brain activity, and promotes greater levels of success in the classroom. But that's just one theory..."

Here's the picture.

Lewd or lascivious? Hardly. They're just kinda cute, like I want to pinch their cheeks. Either set. Meow! -- Arielle Castillo

Our punk rock icons are aging. Mike Watt now looks more like a retiring shop teacher than a rocking member of the double bass group Dos, and the recent surprise guest on NPR’s quiz show, Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me was not a senator with presidential aspirations, it was the Black Flag frontman turned Grammy-winning-spoken-word-artist Henry Rollins.

By now, his famous band logo tattoo of four black lines has blended together into a disheveled rhombus -- most likely with stray, graying hairs peeking out of its cracks -- but Rollins keeps right on rollin’. How can he not? Our current presidential administration has spoon fed him seven years of delicious spoken word fodder – and he’s too smart to turn down a gift like that. He’s packed clubs and theaters, hosted radio and television shows, and, yes, he has also written for and sung in some of the biggest-named bands in the history of punk/hardcore. So why is he coming to South Florida? Not sure. Maybe you should ask him this evening at 8 p.m. during his second of a two-night stint at The Theater (854 Conniston Rd., West Palm Beach). Tickets cost $28.50 and (oddly enough) can be purchased through corporate giant, Ticketmaster. Visit www.ticketmaster.com. --Jamie Laughlin

Apparently, Crossfade just can't get enough of Meg White.
A lot of the Internet, especially some of the music chatrooms, are buzzing this morning over the sex tape that suddenly appeared this weekend that supposedly shows White Stripes drummer Meg White engaged in full coital activity. While nobody can verify that the person of interest in the video is indeed Ms. White, there has been a great deal of speculation as to whether the existence of the tape (if it's real) -- and its imminent Web premiere -- led to Meg's much-reported recent anxiety disorder and, thus, to the cancellation of the band's upcoming U.S. and European tour.
Note to celebrities. Sex is great. Sex scandals and humiliation--not so great. Turn the camera off!
However, it must be noted that Meg's camp is totally denying the whole thing. And for good reason. It sort of looks like Meg... but you be the judge.
You can check out some stills here and the video here if you wish.
Trust us, it's not work friendly so put some head phones on people. Detroit garage rock porn is loud and raunchy. Wouldn't want anyone losing their j-o-b's over this one.
And hey, don't be mad at me for spreading the word. At least I didn't work "Icky Thump" into this one...aw shucks. --Jonathan Cunningham

Lauren Reskin, owner of Sweat Records.

Shout outs to the whole Sweat Records crew as Lolo and the gang are preparing to move from their current location at Churchill's Pub into brand new digs right down the street at NE 2nd Ave. After a fairly successful two year stint seeking refuge inside of Churchill's, Sweat is getting it's own storefront again and moving on up!
They're having a mega blowout sale/party/concert this Friday with lot's of deals on records and lots of live music to boot. Read more about it here and make sure you head to Sweat this Friday as they'll be shutting down until the end of November while moving. It's one of the best little digging enclaves in the tri-county area so if you want to take advantage of their inventory before winter, do it now. --Jonathan Cunningham

Bob Dylan is the kind of iconic musician than breeds obsessive – and discerning – fans. It’s natural, then, that Dylan devotees would be split over I’m Not There, an experimental biographical movie directed by Todd Haynes. Here, Dylan is portrayed by six different actors (Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, Richard Gere, and Cate Blanchett to name a few) during different periods of his life. In this clip, Blanchett plays a younger Dylan meeting poet Allen Ginsberg (David Cross). She’s got the troubadour’s mannerisms down almost better than he does, but her voice remains noticeably feminine. Commenters are expressing both admiration and disgust for her performance. What do you think? – Alexandra Quiñones

Outspoken rapper, actor, and activist Mos Def is voicing his anger at the hip-hop community for their lack of support for the Jena 6. He's been in Louisiana of late, marching and performing, but recently spoke out about feeling alone within the hip-hop community when it comes to standing up for real issues. Check the piece here, from XXL as Mos drops some well needed words. Let's see what type of response it gets. --Jonathan Cunningham

You be the judge.
He is looking mighty ripped these days. First 50 Cent rumors of steroid use swirled, then it was Busta Rhymes and Timbaland (and rightfully so, who are we kidding) but now it's Dr. Dre?
The 42-year-old Compton native recently appeared on television looking like he could retire from rap and be a pro-wrestler.
Speaking of his retirement, check out this article for more reasons why Detox isn't coming anytime soon. --Jonathan Cunningham

If 2Pac's legendary status within urban America is to be examined, folks should start with the video below. Released in 1991 on his stellar 2Pacalypse Now album, "Brenda's Got a Baby" is one of the most poignant songs to ever be composed within the genre of hip-hop. They're bold words, I know, but the topic seemed to hit close to home for countless families across the country and regardless of your age the first time you heard "Brenda's Got a Baby," it was a song that people could instantly relate to.
Lyrics aside, the video was even more compelling--a piece of art that instantly left an impression. Sort of like Jane's Addiction's "Been Caught Stealing"--only more serious.
I can still remember where I was the first time I saw this video. Maybe you can too.
At the time that the "Brenda's Got a Baby" video was in heavy rotation on The Box (for those that remember the best video channel of them all) 2Pac practically became an urban legend over night.
This was the start of it all. --Jonathan Cunningham

So, word is on the other side of the pond, French kids like Cali, le super clubber, above, are all into this "tecktonik" dancing business. Agence France-Presse has hailed it "a new homespun urban dance phenomenon ... a mix of hip-hop and techno dance." Um... well, Cali here is certainly getting down impressively, and he can go on with his bad self. But I'm not sure I see what's so new here. Looks like a mix of old Nineties rave-style liquid dancing, mixed with a weaker version of Chicago footwork and, say, circuit party shirtless attitude.

Plus the background music... oy!!! Does this mean there is also a revival of this horribly high-BPM so-called hardstyle junk? This amphetamine-speed stuff was responsible for robbing much of the soul from house and techno in the Nineties, the first time around, and for giving all electronic dance music a bad rap among the uninformed. Can we leave it behind in the candy raver rooms of yesteryear?

Here's a more impressive example, IMHO, of a regional dance, said Chicago footwork... From teh city that brought us house music! Check the video for "Watch My Feet" by Dude n Nem... A hip-hopped-up dance workout with a breakdown that's set to a breakneck-pace 4/4... Now you know. -- Arielle Castillo