HOBOKEN, N.J. — Local host Dave Pendleton told guest and longtime friend Jeremy Adler to “just help himself to anything in the fridge” despite only having two bottles of hot sauce with the lids crusted over and a six-pack of Four Lokos, starving sources confirmed.
“I just like to be hospitable. If you’re in my house, you make yourself at home. Mi casa, su pasta. I learned that from one of the bottles of hot sauce,” said Pendleton. “I did consider for a second—maybe a millisecond—making a grocery store run before people started showing up, but then I realized that would just create this weird power imbalance, and I’m not about that. I mean, what am I, your personal chef? As my guest, you should be the one stocking my fridge. That’s common knowledge.”
Despite Pendleton’s long-standing philosophy, Adler couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when discovered the limited options in the fridge.
“I mean, I’m all for a casual hang at Dave’s place,” justified Adler. “I’m no spoiled princess bitch, I don’t need a five-course meal, nothing like that. But I’m starting to get worried that Dave doesn’t eat at all. The last time I was here, he said I could help myself but the only things in his fridge were a half-drank Big Gulp from 7-Eleven, an empty jar of pickles, and a box of baking soda that somehow expired three years ago. We need to start hanging out at a Taco Bell or something.”
Etiquette Coach Linda Tottenham confirmed the trend of apathetic hosting.
“Some modern hosts prefer not to put in any effort at all when having people over,” said Tottenham. “Putting in effort for your guests can generally be seen as stiff, uptight, and in some cases, be a sign of weakness. What I always recommend is for guests to bring their own food and beverages. But when it’s time to leave, sneak whatever you haven’t finished out with you. That’ll show them. With parties and get-togethers, it’s best to seek revenge where possible.”
At press time, Pendleton told Adler to put on anything he wants on TV, despite only having an antenna that gets four channels.
I’m not gonna cry during the title track. I’m not gonna cry during the title track. I… “And he lived that way forever, separate from the other tigers. He could not know another tiger.” And I’m crying, great. Alright, well… “The Tigers Have Spoken” is an interesting addition to the Neko Case canon because unlike most live albums, it’s not just her playing the hits, but rather it’s mostly songs that don’t appear on studio albums, such as “If You Knew” and “Favorite” as well as covers of traditional songs like “Wayfairing Stranger” and “This Little Light” and songs by artists like Buffy Ste. Marie and Loretta Lynn. There is also a humorous (and educational) hidden track at the end, in which Case suggests that a great way to help the diminishing tiger population would be to feed them our brattiest children. Sure beats Meow Mix in my book.
Released in 1997, “The Virginian” is a collection of straight-up country songs and covers (often of a honky and/or tonk variety) and co-written originals. At times, “The Virginian” feels like a drunken night out, with “Thanks A Lot,” “Honky Tonk Hiccups” and “Timber” all being incredibly danceable. Too danceable, really. Other songs like “Somebody Led Me Away” are mellow torch ballads that highlight the artist’s incredible voice. Still, it’s the title track that seems the most Case-like. “The Virginian” tells the tale of a girl who “would not love God as a test,” and who was “free to do what she wanted with clouds of her own.” Ultimately, this album is very much worth checking out, if you can put aside your pride and your ego and admit that there’s even a small part of your dead little soul that still wants to boot-scoot and give a little yee-haw! And let’s face it. We all do. We all want to yee-haw.
(Affecting a Trump voice) Wow… what a title. We love a catchy title, don’t we folks? We… that title, I mean, it just… just rolls off the tongue. It’s an absolutely tremendous title. Alright, enough of that. Case’s songs have always featured surreal lyrics and unusual structures, but this album takes the experimentation one step further. The only drawback is, it doesn’t always do this in a very interesting way. Many of the ideas feel more chrysalized on “Hell-On,” but there’s a lot to love here from the “Hamlet” inspired opener “Wild Creatures” to the punk-rocking gender-smashing “Man” to the raw, a capella “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu.” Given the chance, we bigly recommend listening to the deluxe version of this album, which features covers of Robyn Hitchcock’s “Madonna of the Wasps” and a bluegrass cover of Case’s own “Magpie to the Morning.”
The second (and final) album made with Her Boyfriends, released three years after “The Virginian,” “Furnace Room Lullaby” feels like such a tremendous leap in ambition in just a small stretch of time. But still, it seems like a completely natural progression, much like how a DMV worker will inevitably come to moonlight as a dominatrix. It’s an astonishing work that becomes more and more enjoyable with repeat listens. It also happens to be a perfect album for people who are really into Fall. You know the types. The kind who fantasize about driving down a country road on a clear, crisp Fall day to go apple picking, with a pumpkin spice coffee in hand. Yeah. This is an album for them. And I mean that in the absolute best possible way.
“Hell-On” takes the macabre, Southern gothic innovations we’ve seen throughout her career and adds in heavy doses of experimentation found on “Worse Things Get” The opening title track, a story of God and the destruction of planet Earth, feels like it belongs in Aronofsky’s “mother!” while “Last Lion of Albion” sounds like the kind of indie rock you’d wanna hear at your favorite barcade. The almost cartoonishly bleak “My Uncle’s Navy,” tells the tale of a monstrously abusive uncle who enjoys torturing small animals. (It’s sad, most people grow out of that by adulthood.) On “Curse of the I-5 Corridor,” Case laments that “I left home and faked my ID, I fucked every man I wanted to be,” while on “Halls of Sarah,” she sings of poets who “love womankind like lions love Christians.” And “Sleep All Summer” adds a nice touch of piano-driven mellow sweetness to an otherwise hellish record.
The top three on this list could all stand at number one, but we ultimately had to rank them and this is how the chips fell. As always, dissent is welcomed, but bear in mind that we here at The Hard Times have never once been wrong about anything ever. This record features some of Case’s best song-writing, on tracks like the dream-inspired “This Tornado Loves You,” the uplifting “Magpie to the Morning” and the soothing “Vengeance is Sleeping,” while “Polar Nettles,” “Prison Girls” and “Red Tide” add an almost horrific element to the mix. Ultimately though, it’s the album’s closing track, the 31-minute long “Marais La Nuit” (night swamp) that issues the biggest challenge, but it’s also a deeply meditative experience and one that we insist you listen through at least once. Do it. Listen to the swamp noises. Embrace the swamp.
“Blacklisted,” much like overhearing your Mom on the phone with your grandparents, is an album that becomes more distressing the further you listen. “Blacklisted” first paired Case with her signature instrument, the tenor guitar, a smaller, four-string guitar known for its clear, bright tone and ability to play without making ones fingies hurt. Partially inspired by Case’s fraught childhood in Washington, the specter of Green River Killer, Gary Ridgway haunts this album like a malevolent phantom. The song “Deep Red Bells” is wholly about him, while his presence is felt scattered throughout in songs like “Ghost Wiring,” where Case sings: “The river is watching you at the drive-in tonight.”. Meanwhile, songs like “Tightly” and “Look For Me (I’ll Be Around)” set the perfect atmosphere for an evening walk through crime alley and “Stinging Velvet” and “I Wish I Was the Moon” are perfect for a night ride home.
This album is perfect both for sitting at a coffee shop (drinking a $11.00 charcoal chai latte) or for walking in the woods in the middle of Winter. In Uggs or Doc Martens of course. “Fox Confessor Brings The Flood” is Case’s most folk-oriented album, and in many ways the bleakest. “Star Witness” tells the tale of a depressed widow seeking stimulation from dangerous men and “Maybe Sparrow” tells an almost hopelessly bleak story of grim warnings unheeded. It’s not at all surprising to learn that this entire album was inspired by fairy tales. And not the Disney kind. More the “my stepmom was a cannibal and that’s why I’m so messed up” kind. Ultimately, though, as with most of Case’s discography, she is always able to rescue us from her darkness: She gets spiritual with her cover of “John Saw That Number” and continues with “At Last” serving as a late-in-the-album shout back into the void.
Pink Floyd just wasn’t the same without Syd, man. At least that’s what Dan told us before playing one of the most disorienting albums we’ve ever heard in our entire lives. It’s said that Barrett left Pink Floyd following a psychedelic-fueled mental breakdown, but our guy suspects it had more to do with being a stifled artist. We were really hoping this would be a segue into Dan telling us he had acid again, but unfortunately his hook-up got arrested again.
Apparently, this album needs to be played three consecutive times in a row to form a cohesive song, because everyone knows that cohesive songs are over two hours long. At least that’s what Dan said around the middle of the second playthrough while not even thinking about weighing out the Purple Dream we asked for. If you ask us, the record only gets more unintelligible with each listen, and this was supposedly the album where they tried to write real music.
Ugh. Like most weed guys, Dan is fucking obsessed with Captain Beefheart. Personally, we don’t understand. We made the mistake of saying we’re not really fans, so we had to sit through a forty-minute lecture about how we just ‘don’t get it.’ Reportedly, one of the songs features each member of the band all playing a different song simultaneously or something. We’re starting to suspect that’s why it sounds bad. He got so worked up about our supposed ‘lack of artistic appreciation’ that he’ll probably never tell us when he gets shrooms in again.
At least this album was more modern and slightly enjoyable. Still, it’s hard to get into John Dwyer’s hellish soundscapes on a set of empty lungs, and the edibles we took just to endure the experience of coming to this guy’s house hadn’t kicked in by this point in the night. Apparently, this record has been long out of print and Dan owns an original pressing. He obtained it for only 150 bucks from a dude on Discogs. Glad to know our money is being well spent, we guess.
To be completely fair, he didn’t make us listen to the entire album, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make us sit in silence while he recited all fifteen verses of ‘It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’ from memory. We probably would have been impressed if we weren’t so utterly annoyed. One of us coughed during the third refrain, so he had to start over from the top, adding another seven minutes to our ill-fated green run.
Most would expect to have ‘Dopesmoker’ thrust upon their ears during a transaction that should have taken ten fucking minutes of their day, but most haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Dan. He may be a lot of things but he’s no pedestrian listener of stoner-metal legends, Sleep. In fact, he doesn’t even think ‘Dopesmoker’ is that good. We know, because he told us fifteen times before the album finally ended along with our faith in getting our weed within the following two hours.
Dan has his own ‘recording studio’ in his basement. One of these days he plans on crafting a multi-instrumental solo album like his long-time hero Kevin Parker, but he’ll probably just take a bong rip and fuck with the knobs on his modular synth for three hours instead. Regardless, ‘Lonerism’ is Dan’s favorite album and its lyrical themes make him feel proud of personality aspects that most people would attempt to correct in therapy. Not only did this listening session delay our score by almost a full hour, but now we can’t get ‘Elephant’ out of our heads.
Did you know all the lines on the cover of this album are more than just pretty colors? Each segment represents a thematic element featured in the album’s lyrics and there’s even a manual to decode it on the back of the record. Dan attempted to explain this to us for over an hour but admitted we probably wouldn’t understand it since we aren’t synesthetes like him. To be fair, though, it was pretty amusing watching Dan attempt to build the Rube Goldberg machine featured in the band’s video for ‘This Too Shall Pass.’
Dan fucking loves this album, and its title is appropriate because as soon as he put it on, we became ‘Paranoid’ that we would never leave his apartment again. Much less with the eighth we asked for over an hour ago. This album is a fine listen any other time. When watching your dealer and the three other people over at his apartment play air guitar over every track while occasionally yelling ‘Duuuuude’ at Bill Ward’s drum fills, it gets very tiring very quickly.
A song from this album actually came up on Dan’s Spotify radio while he was yelling at us for not clearing a hit out of his steamroller. Our bad. Anyway, he stopped scolding us only briefly to ask ‘What band was this chick in?’ We kept yelling ‘Rilo Kiley! She was in Rilo Kiley!’ track after track, which almost got his attention until he remembered we hadn’t cleared his ungodly smoking device yet and continued lecturing us until the album’s end.
Born in Bennington, Vermont, Donald Sheffield was raised in a paper yurt on the backside of an abandoned ski slope. He once attempted to invent his own astrological symbol which he called called “Sagitauri-Picer.”
Glen Morris was born in San Francisco to parents Paul and Trinian Morris, the tech moguls behind the successful startup www.fuckable-furbies.com. He often cited the exposure to corporate greed and soulless exploitation of the tech boom at a young age as his inspiration for getting involved in the music industry.
Born in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Angelica Lorenstein moved to New York City in 1973, making the entire journey riding on bison back. She soon established her presence in the burgeoning Bowery scene, and was known by the distinctive bison-skin coat she always wore and the fact that she always smelled like slaughtered bison meat.
No one in the Renaissance era would ever think to paint a portrait of a cigar-smoking, bowler hat-wearing, underbite-clamping trout. Not saying ska-based art is better than Renaissance art, but I’m also not not saying it.
Let’s start at the beginning: Drummer/vocalist Aaron Gillespie is the only current member on Underoath’s debut LP “Act of Depression,” which truly lives by its title for the listener. The record strictly consists of long and confusing songs that cleverly have a total run-time of fifty-five minutes and fifty-five seconds, but that’s where the fun ends. Basically and bluntly, this lone 20th-century release for the band will likely never get placed on a “Best of the ‘90s” compilation album… And that’s ok as the band pretty much ruled the Warped Tour and Christian Rock world in the early aughts. Next!
“Cries of the Past” kicked off this century for Underoath on July 4, 2000, and is the act’s first album with current keyboardist Christopher Dudley. It’s not much better than its former, but we likely ranked the LP higher because Dudley added some atmosphere to a band that seemingly didn’t have any prior. Zing. Also, like “Act of Depression,” the band continued the tradition of overly complicated songs that go nowhere, but five songs at forty-two minutes and fifty-one seconds is even crazy for a Periphery album! It’s hard to be progressive without being progressive.
2002’s “The Changing of Times” is the band’s first truly polarizing album and it is the only pre-Spencer Chamberlain (more on him later) LP that we at The Hard Times have seen public love for; the universal consensus amongst all that have listened to Underoath’s expansive catalog is that the first two albums are better left unread. “The Changing of Times” is the group’s third effort, and it is good at times, but not great overall. Sorry. Shortly before the band solidified the majority of its lineup on its next and fourth release, guitarist Timothy McTague joined the band for this LP and vocalist Dallas Taylor exited shortly after it came out. Fun opinion: Dallas really came into his own with the Southern rock-influenced metalcore act Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, and if you don’t agree, you’re dead wrong. Sadly, he had a life-altering ATV accident in 2016. We’re all thinking of him and his family over here.
This may or may not ruffle some rock and roll feathers, but “Voyeurist,” Underoath’s most recent full-length, just didn’t stick with us at our first listen or inspire many more afterward. Overall, it felt like a lower quality and inconsistent batch of songs, and is the first to showcase a semblance of patchiness since the album listed prior. Happily, the band closed “Voyeurist” with one of its better post-2010 songs “Pneumonia,” and is slowly but surely returning to all protein and no fat form on its two most recent follow-up singles from 2023: “Lifeline (Drowning)” and “Let Go.” Here’s to a solid (state) follow-up full-length!
The album for the record titled with a character that isn’t easily attainable on Google Docs is both the band’s first and last without Aaron Gillespie on drums and vocals, and the only release with talented former Norma Jean drummer Daniel Davison on the skins. It is also very likely ranked higher here than you may have thought, as we at The Hard Times like to keep ya guessing and complaining. Admittedly Davison had big shoes to feel (Aaron eventually became the tour drummer for fucking Paramore for a bit), but Mr. Gillespie justifiably sang the act’s and Davison’s praises on this 2010 LP. That form of solidarity from a then-former band member isn’t what one often sees with a public relationship change and it was quite nice to hear about, as the kind words showcased some solidarity that one doesn’t often see with former members in division.
After a not-so-long split from 2013-2015, Underoath released a comeback album via Fearless Records with both drummer/vocalist Aaron Gillespie back in the habit and an “F Bomb” front and center for all to gasp at. Jesus. In addition (or division), the band also said goodbye to the Cornerstone label and simply became a band filled with some Christians. Moses. This album may have turned some dissonance lovers off with its high-quality radio rock, but we’re all here for a mainstream audience digging good music. It has to start somewhere.
Post-hardcore and screamo bands were at their respective peaks for success in 2003 and 2004 so this album came out at the perfect time…. And what a storm it was. The band had three new members for this huge LP: Guitarist James Smith (who just left the band earlier this year; like we alluded to earlier, he’s the only one to do so since this record), bassist Grant Brandell, and new vocalist/screamer formerly of This Runs Through, Spencer Chamberlain. Admittedly, Spencer’s screams here weren’t in tip-top form, but he only got better and better at such for their latter releases; keep scrolling down, dear reader. Still, this album was truly the band’s breakout and contains several undeniable singles that the band still plays regularly. Fun opinion (part deux): If the single “Reinventing Your Exit” was released on a major label in 2004, the then-young-and-aspiring Underoath would’ve been a much, much bigger mainstream rock band.
Our two favorite UO albums sometimes shift from number one to two and vice-versa, but regardless of which one you prefer of the final two listed here, 2006’s “Define the Great Line” was their biggest game-changer sonically and critically. Debuting at number two on the Billboard Charts is no small feat, especially for an album that was deliberately created in a brutal, rough-around-the-edges, and non-mainstream manner. Our punk rock hearts respect the fuck out of this. To whom it may concern, for this release and the one listed below in the gold medal slot, we recommend a front-to-back listen sans skips. Don’t @ us.
Although there weren’t too many “hit singles” on 2008’s “Lost in the Sound of Separation,” the record contained eleven heavy-in-the-best-way experimental songs that should NOT be slept on. Relisten to it now and read on. Ok? Good. Aaron Gillespie went out in style on this release, which showcased his chaotic drumming in a manner that is unrivaled by most in the “scene” or outside of it. Also, it’s badass that the last words of track one, “Breathing In A New Mentality” are, “Let me start again.” Clever, clever.