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Music

Writing about Primus is like trying to stuff a baboon into a sack — there’s no right way to do it.

Brooke Parrott’s songwriting recalls Laurel Canyon-era folksingers like Carole King, early Bonnie Raitt and pre-rebellious-period Norah Jones.

Bronwynne Brent might look like another relic from the ‘70s, with her flowing brown hair, flowery frocks and guitar in hand, but that assumption proves wrong when you actually listen to her music.

Broken Water is a product of Northwestern weather: cultural, musical, political and alluvial, rooster-vanes swinging in the storm.

Pop music abhors a vacuum. After K. copped for the Big Sleep in 1994, the scene went supernova and collapsed, opening up a black hole that snuffed the uber-hip underground.

The UO isn’t the only place to hear exotic sounds this summer.

Have you ever stopped nodding along to a drum beat only to realize that you have no memory of consciously deciding to start?

Consider The Blimp as a lit cigarette ready to burn hydrogen and explode.

If you found yourself in Los Angeles asking a real hip-hop head how the L.A. conscious hip-hop scene began there, said hip hopper would mention Project Blowed and its veteran founding affialiate Aceyalone.

Great Hiatum is a band of UO alums that considers itself  “dance rock,” a fitting genre for the wide range of sounds these musicians bring to the stage. 

The first time I went to a Ninth Moon Black concert it was 2009 and some crusty trainhopper-type tried to fight me for my sneakers.

It’s unclear what Infantree used to record its music, but it sounds like an eight-track with a one-track mind.

Although Moonalice is a fairly new band, having had its first concert in 2007, the group is composed of old pros who have been making music for a long time

Local folkers Wainwright Brothers encapsulate a truckin’ vagabond sound with perfection. And it makes you want to stomp your feet until the bottom falls out of Sam Bond’s.

A week ago I met a girl on the side of the road. She was a radical-anarchist type with black skinny jeans, a half-shaved head and a few well-manicured hairs growing off her chin.

The wayback machine is especially active this month in Eugene music.

Pretend for a moment that you’re trapped in a bad trip and the only thing you can hear is the cyclical recycling of washed-out psychedelia diluted through decades of designer drugs and synthesizers.

San Francisco’s Grass Widow is a lovely mess. At first listen, skittery drums underscore rumbling bass lines.

The beauty of the blues is in its  “ba-bah-bah-bump my baby she left me” simplicity.

After sitting down with the Strangled Darlings latest work, a 12-track LP entitled Red Yellow & Blue, it’s clear that Portlanders George Veech and Jessica Anderly are comfortable with the sound they’ve cultivated. 

Lots of musicians claim the “indie” label, but Zoe Keating, who performs May 5 at The Shedd, has blazed trails for contemporary composer/performers who seek to chart their own paths toward sustainable creative satisfaction.

Eugene is full of incredible musicians who write, record and perform original songs. From show to show, track to track and across genres, our local music scene teems with talent. We are fortunate to have such a wealth of passionate working musicians, and this weekend boasts CD release shows for three solid Eugene bands. Go support them — and be loud about it!

When the cut-line for an event is “no taboo left unturned,” there’s not a lot to be said for attempting to judge the organizers or performers because they seriously do not give a fuck what you think.

As with any small town, community, scene or style, the incest potential quotient in Eugene is high.