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    03:46PM 03/10/08
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    06:08PM 11/09/07
Recent Articles

Recent Articles By Keith Gribbins

  • Apples in Stereo
    9 p.m. Friday, March 2. Blueberry Hill's Duck Room (6504 Delmar Boulevard, University City).
  • Frank Talk
    Frank Black is pissed about a lot of things, especially brainless rockers who just want to meet chicks and asinine questions about his old band, the Pixies

National Features

  • Houston Press
    "It Was Like an Armageddon Movie"

    For days after Hurricane Rita, a Texas prison was hell on earth.

    By Chris Vogel
  • SF Weekly
    The Candidate

    Our columnist knows Ralph Nader's running mate all too well.

    By Matt Smith
  • The Pitch
    How Not To Be a Rap Star

    First of all, lay off the Ecstasy.

    By Nadia Pflaum
  • Village Voice
    Project Runaway

    What becomes a gossip columnist most?

    By Michael Musto

Alec Ounsworth's back, and he's brought a message from beyond: "Satan Said Dance." In the distance, you hear his band, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and the sonic chaos the quintet has wrought from some netherworld. Electricity charges the air, and a spacey disco bass line pulsates. Pianos catch fire, horns wheeze static, guitars crackle into dust, and Ounsworth's voice — obviously possessed by the spirit of Thom Yorke — pleads, "Don't you stop till you hit the ground." At its core, Some Loud Thunder, the band's second album, ignites with the same beautifully frenzied rock & roll that made critics fawn over the avant-pop outfit's 2005 debut. But this new set is more nebulous and necromantic — a bold departure for Ounsworth, who writes most of the songs. Tunes such as "Emily Jean Stock" entice with innocent and soulful sunshine-rock flourishes, only to suck listeners into a bombastic world of garage-fried sound 'n' fury. Self-produced and distributed without a label, Some Loud Thunder is a bold, new-wave séance that just might resurrect the ghosts of Talking Heads and Television. Now move your ass — Satan said dance.

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