Recent Blog Posts
Fri Jan 9, 4:20 PM
Fri Jan 9, 4:07 PM
Fri Jan 9, 3:25 PM
Fri Jan 9, 2:08 PM
Fri Jan 9, 10:46 AM
No related articles found
National Features >
Broward-Palm Beach New Times
How a mother of two ended up in a plot to smuggle high-tech gear to the enemy.
By Deirdra Funcheon
Westword
In life and death, tattoo artist Kauri Tiyme made her mark.
By Alan Prendergast
Village Voice
Amy Neustein never could resist going public with her family dramas.
By Elizabeth Dwoskin
Houston Press
A visit with the hurricane victims that a country forgot.
By John Nova Lomax
Castanets
Wednesday, November 12
Published on November 12, 2008 at 5:06am
The long-running project of New York-via-Portland singer/multi-instrumentalist Ray Raposa and an ever-mutating cast of supporting players, Castanets make the kind of atmospheric, moody, trippy sound that you usually only hear when you eat the brown acid. Psychedelic-folk, gospel-blues, twangy country, and avant-garde noise (or maybe it's free jazz) come together like a dream -- that dream where you're walking through the rainy night of a hard-boiled detective novel and then you're stumbling on crunchy bits of glass in a rusted-out, abandoned warehouse and then Bob Dylan turns up in a purple sombrero and hands you a pulled-pork sandwich and it's all really just freaking you the fuck out. Raposa wrote most of Castanets' new City of Refuge during three weeks of complete isolation in a motel room in the Nevada desert, and it shows. Pals like Sufjan Stevens and Jana Hunter appear on the album, and it's anyone's guess who -- beyond the current core of Raposa, bassist/banjoist Annie Palmer, and percussionist Yoni Kiffle -- might show up to flesh things out live.
Wed., Nov. 12, 9 p.m., 2008