Excellent

LITTLE ORPHAN ANI

TYLENOL TALENT

STUPID BLOODY STUPID!

Interview

All the News That Didn't Fit

On the Record

The Olympia Connection, Or Lack Thereof

Excellent

The Numbness Is Just a Bonus

Hiphop City

WEEN ARE THE WORLD

Soul by the Pound

EXCELLENT REAL ROCK QUOTES

Incest is Best

The Rise and Fall of the N-Word

DEXYS MIDNIGHT RUNNERS

If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say, Tell the Truth Anyway

You Don't Own Me

Summer Lovin'

Stagger Lee

Music to Lose Your Job By

Boy, You Sure Can Take the Fun Out of Music

CINEMATIC CLICHE

Stuart Braithwaite From Mogwai

Going to New York City?

THE CHURCH OF COLTRANE

A Whole N'other Level

Who Says Morrissey Fans Don't Get Laid?

ISSA ROCKA ROLL

THE BUZZCOCKS

There comes a time when your cool best friend, the one you most want to impress with your breadth of musical knowledge, looks at you in utter disbelief as you play your latest indie rock or avant noise or retro-cheese-pop fave, and you almost get that feeling of shame, like you've let them down. Like your taste ain't what it once was.

When several friends and I crowded our way into a Modest Mouse show earlier this year, I hardly expected that I'd want to leave five songs into their set, but the meandering guitars and threadbare vocals left me wanting more. Simply, I was let down. Their lonesome, crowded angst reminded me of what I don't like about Neutral Milk Hotel: melodrama.

Modest Mouse seemed unable to decide if they wanted to be noise or pop. Songs veered in and out of melody (but always out of tune) at seemingly random times, abruptly leaving a Neil Young riff for squealy minimalism, extended to a length just beyond tolerable. Combined with their complete lack of interaction with the audience, the show was a bore.

I felt guilty for not liking them at first. But a live show is supposed to be proof of an artist's mettle. Everybody's allowed off-nights, but a first impression colors the way you react to an artist or band for the rest of your life. Like it or not, Modest Mouse is forever the crappy band of that spring night.