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Kal Marks – Life is Murder
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Mark Lanegan – Imitations
“Step right up, dear ladies and feared gentlemen, boys and girls! It’s time for Uncle Mark’s bedtime lullabies…” Boy, us reviewers DO have it easier than say, artists… all we gotta do is come up with some gimmicky opening line and then take it from there, don’t we? Oh wait, isn’t that EXACTLY how artists…
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Gig review: Johnny Dowd, The Payroll Union @ Greystones
Sitting in the Backroom of The Greystones, the words of a wiser man than I – Kurt Vonnegut – come to mind. “If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD WAS MUSIC.” The congregation of Americana has had much to ponder…
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Diarios de Jean – Vallarta (01/06/06)
A la redacción de este Cuchitril de Sitio Web (TM) han llegado una serie de notas en formato de diario de una tal Jean. No sabemos quién sea ella en realidad, pero venían acompañadas de unas fotos bastante preciosas. Tal vez encuentren ustedes en estos escritos algo con lo que se identifiquen.
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Stream – Chantal Acda
The dulcimer-toned dreamy voice of Chantal Acda, who has previously mesmerised us with True Bypass(review) and Sleepindog (review), will release a solo album on November 11th. The album, Let Your Hands Be My Guide, will be available from Gizeh Records on CD / LP / DL. Collaborating on Let Your Hands Be My Guide will be…
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Diarios de Jean – Vallarta (28/05/06)
A la redacción de este Cuchitril de Sitio Web (TM) han llegado una serie de notas en formato de diario de una tal Jean. No sabemos quién sea ella en realidad, pero venían acompañadas de unas fotos bastante preciosas. Tal vez encuentren ustedes en estos escritos algo con lo que se identifiquen.
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Tales of the Pill Generation : Angels of the Silences
1996 was a weird year for me. I can’t pinpoint how or why, but I knew a change was coming. A severe one. When I arrived to Louisville in 1995, I met this girl named Chloe and we instantly hit it off. She got me into the music scene back then, so I was…
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Short Story : Always Another Stranger
You can take the pulse of a place by its bus station. I’d discovered this early in life, when I’d get loaded – on my own – onto a bus from one city to another, sent to stay with my father for a few days, or maybe my grandparents.

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