
Madison Bloom
Madison grew up in a podunk lumber town in Western Washington, about an hour and a half North of Seattle. She moved to New York in 2008, after settling the debate between studying journalism or fashion design. She chose the latter. Some years, three countries, one degree, and several jobs later, she decided to return to her love of writing, particularly the music-centric kind. She does occasionally miss wearing herself thin for sycophantic high-fashion tycoons, but- Oh wait. No. No she does not.


LIVE REVIEWMan Man @ Brooklyn Bowl
Man Man’s tech rider must read like a sideshow’s inventory. 6 sparkly purple capes 5 bouquets of paper roses 2 black boxing gloves 4 sets of keys 1 human skeleton (authenticity optional) 2 white fur coats 1 taxidermied deer head 24 jumbo feathers, red An assortment of hats 1 signing plastic owl...

LIVE REVIEWLandlady @ Nublu 151
Nublu 151 looks like the inside of Satan’s jewel box. Kaleidoscopic projections swirl on the walls and a dangling disco ball takes the place of a wind-up ballerina. But it’s the pervasive red and blue lighting that really lends a sinister tint to the venue. The colors radiate over the main floor,...

LIVE REVIEWYoung Jesus, IAN SWEET @Park Church Co-Op
“There were certain things about my Christian upbringing that I liked. Others, not so much.” The irony that John Rossiter’s band is playing in a Lutheran church has not been lost on the Young Jesus frontman. Surely the crucifix presiding over the stage at Park Church Co-Op did not go unnoticed by...

LIVE REVIEWPublic Memory @ Mercury Lounge
I’ve never felt more old or useful than at last night’s Public Memory show. After getting startled by the opening clang of a crash cymbal (who could ever anticipate drums at a rock concert?) and bolting away from the monitors to the back of the room, it dawned on me that I’d forgotten to bring...

LIVE REVIEWTold Slant, Lily Konigsberg @ Park Church Co-op
As someone who’s spent little time in them, it is strange how familiar old churches smell. They smell like warm dust, wood, and maple syrup—like a childhood home you’ve never stepped foot in before. It’s a combination of aromas rarely found in the glass and concrete structures of New York City, but...

LIVE REVIEWThe Beths, Godcaster @ Alphaville
If you wear a fringe-sleeved shirt onstage, you’re bound to get it tangled in your tuning knobs—but this is of little concern to Judson Kolk. The guitarist and lead singer of Philadelphia rock outfit Godcaster flits around so swiftly, his tassels don’t have time to snarl. Calling Godcaster a “rock”...

ONLY NOISELike A Summer Thursday
One of my favorite descriptions of summer, particularly its languid, melancholy months, comes from Don DeLillo’s first novel, Americana: “Summer unfolds slowly,” DeLillo writes, “a carpeted silence rolling out across expanding steel, and the days begin to rhyme, distance swelling with the bridges,...

ONLY NOISEGlenn Branca's Final Ascension
I wound up at the Kitchen sort of by mistake. It was a Tuesday - February 23rd, 2016 to be precise. It had been a year since the worst week of my life, and sitting at my desk after a long day of designing women’s underwear, I longed for a little culture that evening, a little date with myself. So I...

ONLY NOISEPunk Rock Mom
“Punk Rock Mom” was a distinction of honor my mother appointed to herself, and though the title mortified me on more than one occasion, she’d well earned it. She was the one helming the two-hour, round trip commute between my hometown of Arlington, Washington and Seattle, where any and all rock...

ONLY NOISEWaterloo
Waterloo always sounded like an exotic place to me, an English garden oasis dotted with fountains and plum trees and those little stone statues of naked angel-babies. The name suggested a swan pond, croquet matches, and crustless triangle sandwiches served at 3 p.m. for tea. Little did I know that...

ONLY NOISEAn Audience of None
In what world does this sound like a good time? You are in a dark room, surrounded by drunks you don’t know, and some you know too well. Your favorite song is playing, only it’s a compressed, simplified version void of lyrics. You are holding a cheap microphone, and the fate of the next three...