Here's Jet before the crash.

​It might not seem like a big deal that much-maligned Australian band Jet announced their "discontinuation as a group" on Tuesday. Most of the people who will read this post had long ago written off Jet as sell-out, half-assed imitators who got lucky once, but we all know deep down that's not true.

You can say what you will about them (and everyone has a passionate opinion about this band one way or the other), but their breakup is more important than it may seem on its surface. Ultimately it may say more about music lovers/critics/bloggers, etc. as a whole than it does about the four men in the band itself.
More >>

​A couple blasts from the past will be in town this week as the Minnesota Timberwolves play host to the Boston Celtics (featuring our old "buddy" Kevin Garnett) and '90s pop superstar Vanilla Ice. The rapper will perform at halftime of Friday's contest at Target Center.

Although "Ice Ice Baby" is nearing its 22nd birthday and Vanilla was recently given the backhanded compliment of a number six on SPIN's list of pop's 30 most reviled musicians, this song rings out much better than the Britney Spears, 'N Sync and LMFAO the Timberwolves have had on their headphones of late.


More >>

Photo by Mackenzie Orth

​This past weekend, Gimme Noise's Sally Hedberg witnessed what may become one of the defining shows of Atlas Sound's career -- a possible "Judas" moment on the West Bank. In short, a heckler requested the Knack's "My Sharona," and frontman Bradford Cox took this as an invitation to do the song "as interpreted by Faust" for like, an hour. Some people waved chairs, but others walked out. Here's the review.

In a rambling, entertaining interview with Pitchfork, the incensed and endlessly quotable Cox notes "it was one of the best performances I've done since Deerhunter started," and based upon the video of the show, it's believable. "It was a very natural show and the people that didn't like it can suck my dick," he says. And though his verbiage is kind of crude, Cox has a point here.
More >>

Photo by David Shankbone

​Despite what Wikipedia would have you believe, the Thurston Moore solo catalog is fucking immense, and most of it is full-on noise apocalyptic, limited-edition cassette-only recordings of an iconoclast manchild, his mis-tuned guitars, and his atrophied amplifiers wilding the fuck out. I've been in attendance at a handful of Sonic Youth concerts over the years, but never one of Moore's by-his-lonesome love-ins, so I have no clue what those of you planning to queue up for tonight's show at the Varsity Theater are in for.

An educated guess: he'll lean heavy on the sensitive, avuncular abominable-scree tunes from his two Matador LPs, maybe throw in a selection from Psychic Hearts, tease with some ear-splitting improve or the introduction to "Sugar Kane" or something, because even though he's starting to sound his age, Moore's still an asshole at heart.

Regardless of what Mr. Kim Gordon has up his sleeve, Gimme Noise encourages you to beg, bribe, and otherwise con him into performing the following five songs.
More >>