My friend and I thought it would be fun to go with her boyfriend’s band to a couple of their shows last weekend.
While I was able to fulfill my lifelong fantasy of being a merch girl- or, the girl who carries a box of t-shirts from the van to the venue- I ultimately realized that being in a band seems like way too much work. I’m exhausted and all I did was dance and pass out in the back of my friend’s Acton all weekend.
Check out some of the pics I snapped on the trip that took me from NYC to Boston to Vermont and back…
Check out the scoop we got from Boston reggae-rockers Doctor Doom Orchestra (recent winners of The Deli Magazine New England’s “May Artist of the Month” award) when we caught them last month after their first show in NYC…
Buntology makes its first t-shirt sale of the festival season! What an awesome feeling. And how dapper does this guy look? I mean, really....
What happens when the very quality that makes something so unique is the same quality that seemingly exploits it? When the “special thing” that sets something apart is the very same thing that allows it to gain popularity?
I found myself pondering such quandaries during my time at Strange Creek Music Festival, held last weekend in Greenfield, Mass., as I frolicked among the hippies who also opted to spend their Memorial Day weekends dancing in a field eating grilled cheeses rather than sitting at a barbecue eating guacamole.
I’m sure there is some poetic expression for this type of thing- nothing gold can stay? All good things must come to an end? If a tree falls in the woods… nah, not that one.
Certainly the implication that Strange Creek is “coming to an end” is a false one, considering the festival sold out for the first time in its 9-year history last weekend. But, while the Western Mass festy- known for its intimate number of attendees and strong familial vibe- has gained major popularity over the years, it also may have lost something along the way.
As every good music fan knows, sometimes even the best album can take a few listens before it starts to grow on you.
Often, the catchiest tracks are found and played on repeat, until the rest of the album is slowly integrated into the listening cycle, at which point- if the CD is good- the listener begins to fall in love with the entire body of work.
And sometimes you have the pleasure of love at first listen. This is the rare occasion in which you pop on a new album and are instantly captivated, effortlessly jamming out to the entire record while excitedly IMing your friends, “this is the best CD ever!” (OK, maybe I’m the only one who does that last part.)
The latter can be said about the new album from The Alchemystics, “Spread Hope.”
The 17-track LP comes in at a little over an hour- that’s 70 minutes of pure reggae awesomeness.
After enduring one of the longest and most brutal winters the east coast has seen in years, festival season is almost upon us!!!
As much as we’d all like to kick off our shoes and enjoy every festy the summer has to offer, the reality is that with full-time jobs and bills to pay, most of us have to be a bit more selective about the ones we attend.
Because of this, Buntology has enlisted the help of five expert panelists to offer their infinite wisdom and expertise on the subject, and to make sure that YOU get the most bang for your buck this summer…
When I was a kid all I cared about was buying music.
Every week when I got paid from whatever dinky job I was working (solely to support this cd-purchasing habit), I would cash my check, head to the mall and salivate down the aisles of Best Buy until I picked out whatever obscure-ass shit my 7th grade self was listening to.
By the time I graduated high-school I had a massive music collection which I kept alphabetized in a humongous booklet. I was meticulous with my CDs; they were in perfect condition.
In college I was spoiled and able to get new music for free from the radio station I DJed at. This was around the same time that Metallica started ruining free music distribution for everybody- and my college campus didn’t allow file-sharing programs- so the radio station thing worked out nicely. Plus, being a college student meant I was way too poor to shell out $17.99 for an album that may or may not suck.
Now, at age 23, I’m in a position where I can afford to pay for my music. And with Itunes becoming the predominant (and reasonably priced!!!) way to get such things, I’m back on the cd-a-week bandwagon. Giddyup!
Check out what I’ve been digging on over the last few weeks…
The horns, hums, accented offbeats and smooth lyrical rap flow present in the 7-track EP serve as the perfect reggae/rap fare. In fact, if I close my eyes hard enough between the three stops from 86th to 14th street, it almost makes me think that the bead of sweat dripping down my back is due to dancing in a grassy field at a festival.
Clear your weekend schedule, pick up a fresh razor, and slather on your finest Bath & Body Works scented lotion- because tonight Enrique Iglesias is fucking you, whether you want it or not.
What in God’s name was Enrique’s manager thinking when he gave him the go-ahead to record this song (very matter-of-factly titled, “Tonight (I’m Fucking You)”)? Furthermore, what type of songwriter would even think to write something like this? (I think we can safely assume that E.I. isn’t coming up with his own material…)
“Here’s the situation / Been to every nation / Nobody’s ever made me feel the way that you do You know my motivation / Given my reputation / Please excuse me I don’t mean to be rude- But tonight I’m fucking you.”
I wouldn’t call it “rude” as much as I’d call it presumptuous. God, remove one mole from a guy’s face and he thinks he’s the next Fabio. Isn’t this the same person who once claimed to “be my hero, baby,” and promised to kiss away my pain?
