Of all of the chameleonic reinventions across the history of recorded music, few groups were as mercurial as Cave In.
And while Antenna might not be the biggest left turn they’ve ever taken, it’s certainly the furthest end of their creative spectrum, leaning heavier on space rock and alternative than ever before. But there’s still plenty of metal heaviness to give these songs some real heft. Continue reading
After metalcore mavens Cave In released the spaced out, alternative metal masterpiece Jupiter, much of their fanbase was alienated—even as critics lauded them.
Anyone hoping that Jupiter was a one off was even more disappointed by Tides of Tomorrow, a six-song EP that features some of the group’s most melodic output.
In all of my examinations of the nerdiest aspects of music critique, I have never found a band with a more convoluted creative arc than Cave In.
I was first exposed to the group a few years ago when I picked up White Silence in a lot of records that I bought to flip. It was an angular, abrasive piece of experimental metalcore that I was not into at all. I dismissed them as a band I just wasn’t into, and that was that.
Then a few weeks ago, a friend recommended Antenna, their major label breakthrough that blended alternative metal and space rock to make something that my friend described as “Deftones meets Sunny Day Real Estate.” After hearing the contrast, I delved deep into their discography to try to figure out what exactly happened.
A few months ago, I realized that I had somehow never intentionally listened to indie rock legends Dinosaur Jr.
I was familiar with their legacy, of course. I had heard the name thrown around by most of my favorite bands as an influence. I knew J. Mascis’ reputation as a guitar icon. But I never spent any time with them myself.
That revelation was the impetus to a deep dive into their discography, and a purchase of their classic second album, You’re Living All Over Me. And now, the Dinosaur Jr. section of my record collection grows with the addition of their third, Bug. Continue reading
Hipster music snob that I am, the depths of my musical knowledge is riddled with blind spots. For example: until last week, I realized that I had never knowingly listened to Dinosaur Jr. Continue reading
Memory is a funny thing. When the intersection of thrift and communal nostalgia led me to buy this record when I found it on the cheap, I didn’t expect that I would have ever had every single song on here memorized.
Being a well-loved indie darling is something of a double-edged sword. You can either suffer in anonymity while your immense talent fails to find the appreciation it deserves, or you can find widespread success and get labeled a sell-out.
And ever since hopping on a major-label with Plans, every new Death Cab For Cutie album has been treated with speculation and dismissal.
I’m not sure if any record has indirectly influenced me as much as this one while simultaneously escaping my attention for so long.
This is one of the most important guitar albums to come out of the 1990s. It inspired many of the groups that inspired me. And yet, I’ve only gotten into it in the last couple months.
Why have I been wasting my time?
Often, when a band jumps between genres, it betrays a lack of self-awareness—a sign that they have no idea what their voice sounds like.
But on As Tall As Lion’s swan song, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I grew up in a blended family—between my siblings and step-siblings, there were five teens and tweens that our parents had to wrangle together.
Finding something that seven people all agree on is a trial of Herculean proportions. To that end, Whatever and Ever Amen was a godsend in my family.