Chris Sabbath

To Serge, with love

Electronic travels with Serge Garcia of Greco Guggenheit
|
(0)

"Some people have their hang-ups about making music on a computer," opines tech house DJ and producer Serge Garcia, a.k.a. Greco Guggenheit. "Then again, some cinematographers during the silent era believed that the introduction of sound to films was fraudulent."

A relatively fresh face in the Bay Area, the 24-year-old Los Angeles native Garcia has more than a few bass monsters he's itching to unleash. Read more »

Rock, B.C.

Vancouver's Twin Crystals wrap riffs around your face and scorch you
|
(0)

PREVIEW I have yet to touch down upon the streets of Vancouver, B.C., but was advised recently by Jexxe Taylarr of Twin Crystals that if I ever do make the pilgrimage, I should stop by the Emergency Room — a hole-in-the-wall performance space where in addition to Taylarr's band, the likes of Shearing Pinx, Sex Negatives, White Lung, and Gang Violence tear shit up on a regular basis.

"The music scene is unbelievable," Taylarr says via e-mail. Read more »

Her direction

Grouper's Liz Harris journeys alone past a world of drone
|
(0)

a&eletters@sfbg.com

On the collection of platters Liz Harris has put out over the last four years as Grouper, the Portland, Ore., resident sounds like she's exorcising many ghosts. A new self-released, 7-inch split single with City Center echoes with the sort of psych-drone incantations you'd expect to hear while lurking about a dark forest after midnight. On "False Horizon," accompanied by the murky strum of a guitar, Harris' vocal loops seep through the cracks of a lost canyon, ricocheting from wall to wall of bedrock.

Big pictures. Read more »

Alloy trio

Behold the blissful motorik and cryptic theatrics of Bronze
|
(0)

› a&eletters@sfbg.com

It's another typical afternoon at Zeitgeist: mid-'80s punk rock roaring from the jukebox, the constant clang of beer bottles, the pervasive smell of burgers. "I like these industrial dudes over here," says Brian Hock, the drummer of SF three-piece Bronze. He looks at a gloomily outfitted bunch a few tables away in the gravel pit. Read more »

Only the hits

Underground sensation Kurt Vile makes classic rock, his way
|
(0)

Philly's Kurt Vile, a self-described homebody and "total record head," has been bashing out one jam after the other ever since his bluegrass-crazed father bought him a banjo for his 14th birthday. Read more »

Seeing starzzz

Garage Rock '09: Nodzzz ditch the Pitchfork and ride a wave of praise
|
(0)

› a&eletters@sfbg.com

Pitchfork Media has sort of become synonymous with junk-food news in recent years, sensationalizing almost every aspect of the independent music world for the hungry masses through dirt-dishing bites on the latest breaking headlines and scale-tipping — or dipping — album reviews. Read more »

It's a hit

Getting high on Bay Area combo High Castle's damaged style
|
(0)

› a&eletters@sfbg.com

I'm glad I finally got my mitts on the self-issued CD-R from San Francisco titans High Castle: I feel like I'm back in ear-bleeding country with the trio's Unwound-ishly, damaged style of noisy rock, nursing an insatiable appetite for more tinfoil-scorched guitar scuzz, blown-out low end, and full-tilt drum thwackage. As each song unloads, three howling voices punctuate the maelstrom. Try if you can to pass on this seven-song album after just one spin. Read more »

At his Beck and call

Polyglot rot: Down-home gets down and dirty with Meth Teeth
|
(0)

› a&eletters@sfbg.com

The year 1994 was when Beck Hansen finally went electric. Prior to Mellow Gold (Geffen), he lodged in a shed, made homespun cassettes of lo-fi recordings, and busked on the streets of Los Angeles. Panned by critics as a novelty for slacker-minded Gen Xers, Beck epitomized the slack, flannel-draped, messy-haired ethos of most teenagers at the time — myself included — and his post-grunge anthem, "Loser," catapulted him to buzz clip status on MTV faster then you could spell Porno for Pyros. Read more »

Noise Pop: Tossers

Throw Me the Statue buzzes
|
(0)

I want to live the Scott Reitherman life: from his harmony-soaked, listener-baiting songwriting to his skittering, synth-driven zeal, the Seattle multi-instrumentalist seems to be leading the pack in Throw Me the Statue through perfect days at the beach year-round.

Since Reitherman's college days in upstate New York, he's been hammering out a surplus of catchy, experimental pop recordings like a regular Robert Pollard. The fruit of his toils finally found its proper release when Reitherman issued TMTS's debut, Moonbeams, on his Baskerville Hill imprint last summer. Read more »

Resort recollections

Sweating to Mi Ami
|
(0)

Welcome to Mi Ami — where the only hint of tropical exposure is the stifling humidity of an all-night dance party. Here in Mi Ami, there are no arced palms, hungry crocs, or pesky tourists getting in the way of all the sheer nastiness shaking and stirring about. Within its pulsating realm — a world-beat machine of tireless, congalike aerobics — delayed and jangly guitars, dirty bass, and skronky electronics fill the dank atmosphere as sticky, gyrating bodies press up against one another and ripple to and fro. Read more »