Concert: Fred Smith, "Seven Ways"
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Fred Smith -- the artist formerly known as Iain Campbell Smith -- is a recent arrival to the US, having spent his formative years in Australia and in the islands of the South Pacific. He has been known to lead singalongs in the pidgin dialect of Bougainville Island, but the song year, "Seven Ways," is all in English. Here is Fred Smith's artist profile on Pandora.
The harrowing tale of Tricky's childbirth. His mother's childbirth, that is.
Frenetic, playful, propulsive, and NEW in a way that much rock is not.
A squirrelly song from Milk Man, starring Greg Saunier.
A spasm of sarcasm by the English 'gangsta folk' purveyor.
John Donne fans, roll up! Dust off the poetry volumes for this one, and look sharp.
Neo-jam band roots music about the Great White North.
New Monsoon's deep baritone takes on a tale of crime and false accusation.
How often do hear accordion in the discoteca? Kinky wants to change that.
The Prince-inspired spelling supports the case that this is a lubricated jackhammer of futuristic guitar electronica.
A heavy, Tolkien-esque rock thump about theophony and the harmony of the spheres.
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A raucous, distorted, giddily optimistic song.
Noisy, epic, grand large-canvas rock.
Edgy, foul-mouthed L.A. rap that is unafraid to get its hands soiled.
If there's any chance you'd be offended, you might be offended by this one.
Headnodic's inescapable bass hook driving a surging battle cry. 
The cheeriest anti-materialist screed you've ever heard.
A thumping, intricate love song about love... that is, about loving love.
The audience at the Mezzanine went wild for Wale's raging tribute to Washington DC.
This one... goes out... to the ladies in the house...
It's infrequent that we describe a hip hop song as "pretty," but this track from The Mixtape About Nothing is just that.
The mix of Fishbone's adrenalized ska-punk with dark lyrics about domestic disputes gives "Ma and Pa" an unmistakable identity.
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A modern update on Curtis Mayfield's cautionary tale about the dangers of chemical overload.
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GDB's rollicking take on barrelhouse piano and early rock and roll.
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An upbeat toetapper about a dead-end job.
One part "St. James Infirmary," one part molasses-drenched character sketch.
The first song the Mumlers ever recorded, written about a sketchy San Jose corner.
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Super-fast bumblebee guitar fuels this pogo party.
Spastic energy, organs, and catchier than strep throat.
Nothing says indie pop like hand-sewn sweaters.
Delaware's finest pen an ode to Janeane Garofalo.
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New Mexico is more of a landing pad than Washington State, but Say Hi begs to differ.
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Southern charm and odd voodoo hucksterism meet in an unlikely singalong.
Great American songwriting, timeless and direct.
This time we look into the club's ability to pack dozens of acts in during a festival like CMJ.
A look at New York City's haven for challenging modern music, shot during CMJ when 
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Who the plum is Dr. Vitus, and why is he sitting on my roof?
One girl, four prom dates = a recipe for ribald trouble!
'Tis a sailor's song! A sea shanty, mateys!
Never has the word "slut" sounded so strangely sweet.
A kiss-off song in the grand tradition. Don't let the door hit you on the way out, eh.
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