Interview with Fire Retarded
First and foremost: Why Fire Retarded?
Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Daily Cardinal's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query. You can also try a Basic search
653 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
First and foremost: Why Fire Retarded?
Can you elaborate on the origins of Sacerdote?
The Bassment doesn’t quite live up to its name. Not only does its claustrophobic enclosure constrict and warp acoustics beyond measure (bass especially), it’s also crammed in an attic. Still, the new venue—dreamt up and operated in the spirit of similar DIY venues all across the country—has a distinct charm to it that no degree of accurate nomenclature could ever bring. Sitting unassumingly at a redacted address on a redacted street (sorry, you’ll have to facebook message the owners for the location), when I walked in for the venue’s christening show Wednesday night there was nothing to indicate the beat up living quarters were housing a show that night, aside from a self-made poster taped to the door. Not until you ventured to the attic to find a group of 15 some people (which later swelled to around 50 or so) chatting, laughing, drinking beer and eating homemade cupcakes, surrounded by streamers dangling from the ceiling and even a disco ball.
After a ten-year, on-and-off, hiatus, The Dismemberment Plan have released their first studio album in ten years. This hiatus was speckled with a one-off reunion show and then a subsequent tour through Japan and the United States four years later in 2011.
Fall Out Boy has been in the media quite often within the past year after a four-year hiatus and surprise return with Save Rock and Roll. Their fans expressed mixed feelings about the comeback album; some people regarded it as not being punk enough and others loved the change in pace. Their newest EP Pax-Am Days is almost the complete opposite of the epic, star-studded Save Rock and Roll. It was produced by Ryan Adams at PAX-AM Studios within a two-day span, and Adams’ minimalistic editing makes for an excellent, rugged punk sound. The guitars are heavily distorted, the drumming is fast and aggressive and Patrick Stump’s lead vocals stand out among the insane instrumentals.
Justin Timberlake’s album, 20/20 Experience, was a critical success and return to form for one of pop music’s premier entertainers. JT’s album did well with critics, long-time fans, teenage girls, twenty-something women, older women, really older women and Elliot, who hates everything. But there was one group of people who loved the album and surprised everyone else, and that was the hipsters.
Garage rock. Before Monday night, these words meant nothing more to me than how Wikipedia described The Black Keys. Sure, I have every White Stripes album and sure, I listen to MC5 and The Stooges. But I never really looked into what these words truly meant. Last night, when Hanni El Khatib and company rocked the High Noon Saloon, all that changed.
Sometimes it’s all just too much. I get stressed over things I really don’t have to worry about, nothing makes sense and I just want to escape into being a girl. When these episodes strike, I usually put on a limited, repeated loop of The Smiths and Hole and float along through my estrogen ocean, waiting to come back to equilibrium. So I sat down this afternoon, pen in hand, to write an album review. What I was not expecting was to be assaulted with a Riot Grrrl throwback for the 21st century. Lord Snow’s Solitude threw me right into that aforementioned hormonal ocean, but instead of floating back to shore, I doggy-paddled myself to exhaustion, wanting to stay in place.
I’m not sure why I always seek out relationships in video games. Most modern RPGs offer the expected prospects: a punk chick from a poor family, the gorgeous affluent woman and the dreamy male soldier. Whatever the choices may be, my characters constantly pursue someone. Usually I’ll work through a pairing as fast as possible in hopes of viewing that ever-so-sexy virtual contact that sort of resembles two blocky rectangles snuggling.
Riot Fest is potentially the most polarized festival out there. Walking into the grounds on Friday, the contrast between Hot Topic tweens with My Chemical Romance back-patches and graying, chill punk dads was hilariously stark. The contrast between having a great time and having a terrible time became even more obvious throughout the weekend, with great shows and people equally matched with cold, rainy weather and some of the worst human beings in the world. However, this isn’t to say attending Riot Fest was a bad choice. Overall, the festival served its purpose: sweet, sweet nostalgia, whether it’s for CBGB’s or the 2004 Warped Tour.
It’s been worth waiting three years for Factory Floor to release a new album. Their new self-titled album, Factory Floor, embodies a style we haven’t seen from the electronic trio. Known primarily for being a noise and post-punk band, their new record sets the tone of a futuristic disco with its retro drum machine kicks, distorted vocals and pulsating rhythms. Though repetitive, the album’s intensity amplifies with each track, making it an electrifying listen.
Modern action sports, as a whole, are a money-centric operation.
It’s been a few years since I’ve stopped by Lollapalooza as distance and compounding prices have proved a more woeful deterrent than I’d expected, but this year, armed with my press pass, I’ve been mulling over all my fond memories of festivals past to get myself excited again. To get everyone else out there equally riled up, here’s a short list of the five primary reasons I’m getting antsy all over again for the Midwest’s biggest and showiest music festival.
We entered Saturday with renewed spirits. We’d dried off and so had the world; nothing but blue skies and slightly less health-endangering heats awaited us. The plan was to get to Pitchfork at around 1 p.m. and catch White Lung and Pissed Jeans for a notably punk afternoon, but underestimating both Chicago traffic and the lunch rush threw us off and we arrived too late to do either. Instead we headed over towards the blue stage, our consistently shady bastion, to see Julia Holter.
Music festivals are a staple of the live music scene. More than just a single-night concert, fans see two, three, four, days and nights of music. Road trips are taken, alcohol is ingested and someone in every group comes home with an embarrassing story. With the sun finally beaming and students coming out of hibernation, music festival season is here.
Daily Cardinal: You’ve been all over the country lately. How has that experience been?
Alright readers (mom and her co-workers who grin at her when she forces them to read my articles), I’ve decided to change my whole shtick of being a “comedic writer” and focus on something important: advice. As you all (all five of you, that is) know, I have given you advice on band names, gaining Twitter followers and how to oppose the communist agenda; but now it’s my full-time gig. Please send me your emails. Oh, here’s one:
WOO. BAH BAH BAH BAH. HA HA HA HA.
Anybody with even a remote interest in the history of American music would do well to check out Michael Azerrad’s “Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground 1981-1991.” It is a loving paean to a few of the most important bands on the American scene—bands like Minor Threat, Minutemen, The Replacements, Sonic Youth, Hüsker Dü and Dinosaur Jr—who could be said to constitute the pantheon of amerindie.
Like a terrible, blood drenched disco ball ascending from the stygian bowls of the earth, The Knife have finally returned to us.