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Reader's Picks
Top Recommendations
A short list of Kansas City's most popular hot spots.
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Arthur Bryant's Barbecue
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La Bodega
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O'Dowd's Little Dublin Irish Pub
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Charlie Hooper's
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National Features >
City Pages
Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled
You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.
By Matt Snyders
Miami New Times
Pimp Daddy
The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.
By Natalie O'Neill
Riverfront Times
Babe 'n' Arms
Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.
By Nicholas Phillips
Dallas Observer
The Fight for Texas
Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.
By Sam Merten
Terrestrial Tones
Dead Drunk (Paw Tracks)
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By Ray Cummings
Published on February 16, 2006
The haunted-house love child of Black Dice's Eric Copeland and Animal Collective's Dave "Avey Tare" Portner, Terrestrial Tones is more lunatic-fringe pastime than just-above-ground vocation — a hypnotizing synthesis of each player's day job and a good excuse to hang out together and make music to take drugs to make music to. The duo's lysergic, Technicolor bloodlettings on Dead Drunk groan, loop and churn eerily in midair. "Gargoyle," a thick, wavering swarm drone of processed-beyond-recognition moans hums merrily along, and "Car Fumes" is garbled, wondrous transmission from a world where sunsets flicker, dip down and sing. Closing showpiece "This Weekend Wow" rises and falls like a relaxed, diseased heart, with Portne's hissing, millimeter-from-the-microphone exhalations and alien chitchat surfing crests and troughs of roiling, rotting guitars. You won't want to sober up.
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