About a month ago, we were fortunate to have The Two Man Gentlemen Band drop by the WRCT studio for an on-air interview and performance. The band, which consists of Andy Bean on the tenor guitar and Fuller Condon on the string bass, plays folk tunes with funny, clever lyrics.

For more info on the band, check out their website: www.thetwogentlemen.com.

Here’s the full interview and performance from their visit:

Two Man Gentlemen Band (Full Interview) by WRCT 88.3FM

(Photo courtesy of The Two Man Gentlemen Band)

“Pitchfork is incredibly pretentious.” “After I saw the review that Pitchforkgave my favorite album, I’ll never read them again.” “ Pitchfork doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

It’s not uncommon to hear rhetoric like this when you talk to hardcore music enthusiasts. While I have issues with the way music journalism sitePitchfork operates, it’s disconcerting that there are people who unequivocally discredit everything Pitchfork does.

Pitchfork, established in Chicago in 1996, is one of the most widely known music journalism sources in the nation, coming into existence around the time when college rock burst into the mainstream. In the almost two decades since its creation, Pitchfork has become an indie taste maker and unrelenting hype machine. Predictably, people tend to either love or hate Pitchfork.

It’s not that hard to justify disliking Pitchfork. Its rating scale is unbalanced; its review process is seemingly skewed toward music that fits its projected image as opposed to the quality of the music, and their reviews tend to be pretentious ramblings that sometimes act as soapboxes instead of legitimate, in-depth critiques (see its review of The Airbone Toxic Event’s self-titled debut). However, the staff at Pitchfork undeniably has an expansive knowledge of popular music and a fine-tuned understanding of the type of music that its audience seeks out.

I don’t hold a lot of faith in Pitchfork’s reviews anymore, but the sheer amount of cultural knowledge that it brings to its reviews — information on contemporaries, influences, film culture, current events, and analyses of local music scenes— is impressive, to say the least. It’s completely legitimate to criticize Pitchfork, but to discredit it entirely is a gross oversight.

(Originally published in The Tartan)

It’s that time of year again. Your Facebook is flooded with invitations to Halloween parties, slasher fests, pumpkin patch frolicking, nights of horror — the list goes on. Yet upon attending these events, you are overwhelmed with downright bad costumes and a lack of Halloween spirit.

Invitations to these events include descriptions that tell girls to be whatever they want, as long as they add the word “slutty” to the costume description. Now, I’m all for expressing yourself, but what happened to good, clean Halloween fun that focused on ghouls, goblins, and witches instead of sexy nurses, teachers, and police officers?

This past week, I went to an event that embodied my idealized image of Halloween. Tucked away in Lawrenceville, Arsenal Bowling Lanes hosts a weekly college night on Tuesdays, complete with cheap bowling, booze, and a live band. This week, the bowling alley was decked out with skeletons, cobwebs, and the usual Halloween fare. The red velvet walls, the skeletons atop the alleyways, and the live band made for a great evening.

The band, aptly called The Graveyard Rockers, played psychobilly and surf rock tunes focused on zombies, Frankenstein, and all your favorite monsters. The tongue-in-cheek references to science fiction, horror, violence, and sex were quite a relief from the bevy of electronic dance music I’d grown accustomed to hearing during “Halloween” parties.

As soon as Thanksgiving comes, our ears will be assaulted with Christmas music; why isn’t this the case with Halloween music? If you dig around, you’ll find that there are some great Halloween anthems out there that bring together the dark, fun, and ultimately over-sexualized aspects of Halloween. Take a break from your usual playlists and crank up some psychobilly. I would recommend you start with the compilations Halloween Hootenanny and Halloween A Go-Go.

(Originally published in The Tartan)