So Seattle Weekly has decided to do a music magazine, Reverb Monthly, as an insert to the paper. The Rocket started that way in 1979 as an insert in the Seattle Sun. They say they will review every local release every month. Dawn Anderson tried to do that with Backlash (1987–91), and it worked great until the national ad money dried up in the Bush 1 recession. Sound (Seattle's glossy in-flight magazine of music) didn't last either. Local bands have no ad money, so I wish the Weekly luck.
Jack Endino is a local musician, producer, and engineer who has recorded hundreds of albums, including Nirvana's debut, Bleach. This piece was originally posted to Endino's Facebook page and later picked up by CollapseBoard.com, a music blog run by Everett True, the journalist credited with introducing grunge to the . . . masses.
These are excerpts from EACH review on the first page of the reviews section in issue #1, Sept. 2011. See a pattern?
" . . . floating, feel-good beats and . . . character-rich rhymes . . . "
" . . . teetering between rigorously mellow and painstakingly dreamlike . . . "
" . . . sparse acoustic numbers . . . dripping with the golden sheen of vintage country and Southern rock . . . "
" . . . hard-driving, defiant punch of power pop . . . " [Must be a mistake.]
" . . . delicate vehicle for his haunting vocals . . . waxes existential . . . "
" . . . all four elegiac cuts, bolstered by a full string section, are gorgeously prismatic . . . "
" . . . fine, diaphanous pop music . . . flowing with skyward melodies and piping organs . . . "
" . . . sacrifices its airy screams and schizophrenic drumbeats for a live experience that should be seen rather than heard . . . " [Ha ha. Could it be an actual rock band?]
" . . . immediately hooky, well-balanced indie rock . . . "
" . . . reunited slowcore darlings . . . faint, reclining twang . . . "
" . . . elevating bursts of reverbing guitars and vocal harmonies . . . "
" . . . mesmerizing, dream-like ambient pop landscapes . . . "
" . . . catchy melodies that employ innocuous vocals, gentle strings, and a couple of horns . . . ":
" . . . psychedelic guitars, reverbed vocals, and driving rhythms . . . "
" . . . bright, lush and mature . . . "
" . . . slinking, lo-fi expertise and . . . eerie sci-fi soundtrack music . . . "
" . . . songs of rainy days: just a reverb-drenched piano and a lonely cello . . . "
" . . . fervent breakdowns and beautiful, melodic vocals . . . "
" . . . strong yet conventional wails backed with carefully placed instruments . . . "
" . . . their melodies are occasionally directionless, but their high-octane energy is appealing . . . " [Hey! Another actual rock band.]
" . . . sing like an angel on steroids . . . tangled up in possibilities . . . "
" . . . the band's brightest, bounciest electro-pop production yet . . . "
" . . . brief, distorted bit of fuzzy pop . . . "
" . . . a little glam, a little garage, and a little great . . . " [Hint: This band's on Tom Dyer's label. Go, Tom!]
" . . . warbles sweetly, backed by cello and piano . . . "
There's two more pages like this.
Grunge is dead . . . but everything else sounds like it's on life support.