Subjected to the light of day, Sarah Palin doesn't look like a maverick at all.
Exposing a construction-site scam only a San Francisco cop could love.
Ronald Taylor is one of perhaps hundreds of innocent people Harris County has put in prison.
Sloppy U.S. government paperwork is putting the lives of asylum seekers at risk.
Despite the eyebrow-raising moniker's aggressive overtones, the Bristol, England duo of Andrew Hung and Benjamin John Power wants little more than to give your cerebellum a therapeutic, thoroughly intense sound massage. With Street Horrrsing, these Fuck Buttons engineer a sort of reverse, photonegative, canary-in-a-coal-mine scenario, threading strands of coruscating and blackened noise, exotic percussive matrices, and mutilated, near-unrecognizable vocals through buzzing, humming synth enclosures.
The album is presented as a flowing whole loosely segmented into six movements, most of which near or exceed the 10-minute mark; as such, one can easily lose track of linear continuity — not to mention one's own location on this particular Street. Did you misplace your keys somewhere back in the morphing afterburner drone of "Race You to My Bedroom — Spirit Rise"? Kowtow to mellow panhandlers during "Colours Move" as thumping, clipped drum patterns gradually boom-boomed the two-note blare out of the foreground? Run from stray dogs as spine-tingling, rabid-hyena wild-out "Ribs Out" savaged your synapses? Exchange cash for a baggie as "Sweet Love for Planet Earth" moved from floaty, Ativan reverie to swollen, mescaline mindfuck? More important, who cares? Hit play again.