NEW ORLEANS — Local music venue Tipitina’s revealed that their lost and found is at maximum capacity thanks to an accumulation of unclaimed bassists, sources who couldn’t believe that happened again confirmed.
“I’d say we have more bassists here than we know what to do with. We need to clean it out and make way for additional bass players that will inevitably be left behind by future bands,” venue manager Terry DuBois stated. “We are calling on all acts who’ve played here in the last year to double-check to make sure they haven’t accidentally left part of their rhythm section behind. We also had one keyboardist in our lost and found, but he said he’d be fine getting a hotel for the night. This is not as bad as when members of Primus left Les Claypool behind here. That one seemed almost intentional.”
Upon receiving word of the announcement, dozens of bands were reportedly forced to suspend their touring schedule and return to the venue.
“Fuck! I knew we forgot something,” said Lauren Norman, lead vocalist of blues-rock outfit The Bereavers. “I can’t believe that I, of all people, made such a rookie mistake. I always go out of my way before we leave any gig to do the classic four-point check. You know, ‘phone, keys, wallet, bassist.’ I’ll call the venue to let them know we’re coming back to get him. His name is…um. Shit, I’m blanking here. Mark? Or Mike? One of those.”
The phenomenon of abandoning bassists at various venues is reportedly a common occurrence nationwide.
“I’ve seen it happen thousands of times,” said Anthony Haughton, an entrepreneur who owns and operates several venues throughout the region. “Usually the rest of the band pulls away without even noticing their absence in the van. It’s a real ‘Home Alone’ situation. Other times it’s metal bassists who get cut from the lineup after the rest of the band realizes that, rather than paying someone to double the guitarist’s part, they can just buy an octave pedal. If you’re the bass player, you gotta make yourself more valuable. My advice? Be the designated driver. Sure, you won’t be able to party after the show or anything, but at least you won’t get stuck at a VFW in Shreveport or something.”
At press time, the venue had reportedly emptied the lost and found, issuing an additional statement that bands looking to claim their bassist would need to contact the city’s waste management department.
Weezer’s “Pinkerton” is the blueprint for the ultimate sophomore full-length album, and sadly “Aggressive” just isn’t. However, it was sort of doomed to be almost hated from the start as Beartooth’s debut album “Disgusting” was beyond difficult to follow, and that’s putting it mildly. To put it aggressively in all caps: DISGUSTING WAS BEYOND DIFFICULT TO FOLLOW! Honestly, however you want it said, Beartooth has no bad albums, and this shouldn’t make you sick of the band. Maybe Caleb, who recorded ALL of the instruments on this record and its predecessor, should’ve taken more time here, unintentionally making the process less aggressive, but far more succinct and deliberate. Happily, Beartooth’s follow up records were all solid in every manner that matters.
Does the word “the” count as a word? We mean, if we’re alphabetizing THE Beatles, it goes under “B,” right? Don’t look the other way about this issue and leave your thoughts in the comments. Seriously! Anyway, we are concerned about Beartooth breaking THE cycle by having three letters before a singular word. Regarding “The Surface,” Beartooth’s most recent record as of now is as pop as they’ve ever been and that’s not a bad thing, despite what you all think of Metallica’s “Load” and “Reload,” and Caleb Shomo’s new positive outlook, newly toned bod, knack for writing incredible melodies, and many shirtless pics from live shows and beyond all ensure that his new reality doesn’t attack a snack. Also, a Hardy feature is a badass move from a scene band and this is the last time we will romanticize said utilization.
Beartooth’s third studio LP “Disease” features their coolest sans hyperbole actual album cover by Nicole Valentina Angel, and yes that is the actual name of the artist unless it’s a nickname, a return to form vibe that destroys its predecessor, twelve extremely solid tracks, and is the act’s first recording with other band members not named Caleb Shomo on it: Zach “Angelica” Huston on guitar, Connor “Clarence” Thomas on drums, Oshie “Cool Name Unless It’s A Nickname But It’s Still Cool To Say Out Loud Just Try It” Bichar on bass, and Kamron “Ray” Bradbury on guitar. Eventually, Kamron left the band and was replaced by Will “Will Deely” Deely of Heavy Things/Light Containers on rhythm guitar; if you don’t memorize all of these individual names you’re a real bad listener.
Now we’re at the silver medal winning and runner-up section verbalizing our unbiased love for “Below,” Beartooth’s second-best and fourth LP, and without question their most superior effort since their strong AF debut. This record may be the band’s heaviest from front to back, which makes sense in that it’s the band’s first post-Covid release. Lockdown changed a lot of peoples’ perspectives on life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and general socialization, and the album’s title/opening track “Below” set the tone for its eleven subsequent ones and justified its metal as metal can be, unless we are discussing specific rocks from our eighth grade Earth Science class taught by Mr. Wertovich album cover. Critics from inferior publications lauded “Below,” and reviews for such were more favorable than most bands in the scene.
Wanna know what isn’t disgusting in any way, shape, form, or shmegegge? Obviously, it’s Alex Ploegsma’s extensive t-shirt collection featuring late ‘90s/early aughts yelling and screaming acts with cool yet faded in the most epically vintage in the best way designs. Anyway, we’re at the end here, so let’s go back to the beginning and say one truly kind and truthful thing about Beartooth’s debut LP “Disgusting”: There are no “skip it” tracks here. None. Zilch. Zero. Nein. They say a band or artist has their whole life to make their first album, and in a unique twist, this record was created by an artist moonlighting as an actual band. In closing, if you want to cry in a similar fashion as you likely did Korn’s self-titled debut album closer “Daddy,” check out the final track “Sick and Disgusting”.
Alabama’s pop-punk bands are more “punk-infused indie/emo,” but I don’t like getting into identity politics so “pop-punk” is fine. P.S. Eliot is sensitive yet fierce so they would defend pop-punk with something similar: nunchucks. Also, shout out Hot Rod Circuit who would defend pop-punk with a shotgun because it’s still Alabama.
Like the state, Alaskan pop-punk is dark and cold and sometimes sounds like Social D. Sideways will protect pop-punk from any Russian threats. Thank you, our brave four-chord heroes. Their weapon of choice is a blunt club, formerly used for defending pop-punk against the baby seal menace of ‘04.
In all honesty, it came as a shock to find out this band wasn’t from New England. It was also shocking to hear how influential this band was in preserving pop-punk through all the power-pop Disney music that’s been introducing new kids to the genre for years. The Maine will defend pop-punk with brass knuckles because they need to feel the kill.
A solid mix of modern pop-punk genres (yes, including Easycore), Go For Gold represents Arkansas as prime DPPers. They’re so Defend-Pop-Punk-core, they probably still post in the DPP group on Facebook. They’re like the soldiers in remote areas who never found out the war ended. They’re basically an updated version of Man Overboard so they’d use an AR-15. Thank you for your service, Go For Gold.
Alright, look, this was a really hard one. Green Day may not have been the first pop-punk band, but they are the descendants of the first wave. They had some very influential and popular contemporaries, but the offspring born from Green Day’s influence overshadowed them all. Green Day lit a fire inside a generation in the ’90s and AGAIN in the 2000s. They killed grunge in the blink of an eye, much like how grunge killed hair metal. Plus, they were home grown. They came from the DIY music scene just like every kid who loved music so much they had to start a band. They defend the genre, not with a weapon of aggression, but with a shield. And that shield is their spot-free scandal record. Keep it clean, boys. We’re counting on you.
The Rocky Mountains are home to some of the fiercest pop-punk defenders in The Gamits. The band utilizes their natural environment to protect pop-punk, with an impenetrable cloud of weed smoke, mellowing the harsh vibes of ill-wishers upon the genre.
Fancy-ass Connecticut couldn’t have a normal pop-punk band so these indie-pop fellas will have to do. They’d use the law and various weird legal loopholes to defend the genre. And believe me, this genre should be happy to have some solid legal minds in their corner.
More on the punk side, Plow United represents the “Liberty and Independence” state with fervor. And also with a big-ass hammer. They like the “THWAK” sound it makes while caving in the skulls of pop-punk’s many enemies.
New Found Glory is undeniably influential and important in keeping the pop-punk torch lit from 2002 all the way until the literal Defend pop-punk era began. Sure, Yellowcard’s great, but NFG is the clear choice to lead Florida’s pop-punk resistance movement with their preferred weapon: a single throwing star.
Hailing from the “Donald Glover Show” state, Cartel’s brand of power-pop (sponsored by Dr. Pepper) helped keep the genre going during a time when hipster music reigned. They did surprisingly well, which supported the genre immensely. They would defend their home state by orchestrating the hordes of zombies that dwell within their borders. I should mention, all the stuff I know about Georgia comes from TV shows.
This debut album thrust Paramore onto the scene before they were old enough to drive, with its memorable singles “Emergency” and “Pressure.” Therefore, it doesn’t feel quite right to place it last, but it also doesn’t feel wrong. The angst-ridden tracks all fit neatly into a box of nostalgia that’s best opened when you want to re-experience a time when your parents had just gotten divorced, and society still needed proof that girls can rock. “Here We Go Again” continues to find its way onto the band’s live set list every once in a while, proving it’s possible for Christian thirteen-year-olds with a record deal to grow into functioning adult rockstars with six record deals.
No need to get your wallet chain in a twist. This album went triple platinum, got the band in the ears of mainstream listeners, and inspired an SNL sketch, so obviously it’s a good album. With big singable choruses and catchy hooks, some of these songs ace the test of time, but others border on what the kids—who are now the age we were when “Riot!” came out—would refer to as cringe. It was the album we needed in 2007, but in 2023, it gets put at the bottom of this very serious ranking.
Paramore’s self-titled album can be considered their most experimental effort, with fourteen songs and three interludes that range from grungy and industrial, to early punk, to du-wop inspired. It’s a little long, and a little all over the place. But art imitates life or whatever, and you take the best parts and store the rest away. Some of the band’s biggest hits, like “Still Into You” and “Ain’t It Fun” are on this record, and if nothing else, it offers something for all of their fans.
At the time “Brand New Eyes” was announced, Paramore’s fanbase was continuing to grow exponentially with the success of their previous album, and the release of “Decode,” a single written for the movie “Twilight” that’s still one of their most popular songs to date. This record demonstrates that two things may happen when you write songs about being mad at your bandmates: an album of driving, spiteful, alternative rock gets recorded and debuts at #2 on the Billboard 200, and shit hits the fan between band members. Personal fallout of the band notwithstanding, this is an honest album that showcases Williams’ range and power as a vocalist, and proved she’s the star of the show.
“After Laughter” marked a definitive turn in the band’s sound, gaining them even more commercial appeal with its new wave and soul-influenced synth-pop tracklist. Musically it’s upbeat and energetic, while lyrically it’s despondent as hell, making for a record that hits a sweet spot with anyone surfing the angsty-teenager-to-semi-depressed-adult pipeline. Not only is one of the singles named in honor of this very real punk news website, but even Sir Elton John called it “one of the most underrated albums of [the] year” and a “fabulous record.” Who are we to argue with that?
Paramore’s newest album is their best work yet, recency bias be damned. After taking a five-year hiatus to deal with the various hells of the human experience (and to work on their respective very good side projects), they channeled all the personal and musical growth that happened in that time straight into “This Is Why.” As their only album featuring the same lineup as the one before it, the ten tracks on this record harken back to their younger, guitar-forward songwriting, with added funk grooves, more mature lyrics, and lo-fi production elements. It’s as though the strongest parts of all their previous records were put together to create the best version of Paramore’s sound—one that longtime fans should love, and one that instills hope for even more great music from the band in the future.
Good grief Peanuts specials are terrible. Aside from the music of The Vince Guaraldi Trio, these things have zero entertainment value. They’re about to die, they deserve better.
I mean what am I trying to do, broadcast it to the poor bastards? Any movie that questions mom’s taste in men is out. It’s a big family, and I’ll need the element of surprise to succeed.
Casper is an odd one. This “friendly” ghost is a little creepy and possessive toward Christina Ricci. Frankly, it borders on problematic. I made a promise to Lidya Sheffield that I would help raise her children right, and even though I muttered “Until I freakin butcher you all with an axe on Halloween night” under my breath, it’s a promise I intend to keep.
This is the last night of these people’s lives, subjecting them to a Netflix-era Adam Sandler comedy just seems cruel. Almost as cruel as I’m going to be with that axe. The Sheffields are a good bunch, they deserve “Big Daddy” or better.
It’s sort of like “Hocus Pocus” meets “Eat Pray Love.” I prefer the one without the “Eat Pray Love” in it. Will “Hocus Pocus” be the last movie my family ever sees? Read on to find out!
Eh, kind of overrated, and it promotes a mistrust of adults. Appearances must be kept until the very final moment, just like last year and countless others.
It is a classic, and as a cinephile, I appreciate it, but it might be a little too slow-paced for the youngins. I don’t want them to fall asleep before I get to murder them with my axe, where would the fun be in that?!
The early mixture of animation with live action is charming, and it even teaches the kids a little something about World War II, but like, what’s the point in that? I’m about to murder them.
This animated spooky classic has really stood the test of time, and it will help the Sheffields cozy up to the idea of living without heads.
The Goosebumps books had come and gone before our kids came into this world, but they do love Jack Black. It’s only right that they spend this night with someone they love.
Personally, I always thought this live-action iteration of Scooby-Doo was a mess. Sarah Michelle Gellar is playing Buffy instead of Daphne, Freddie Prinze Jr. is playing Freddie Prinze Jr. instead of Fred, and why the hell are Shaggy and Scoob making fart jokes? Still, the kids seem to like it, and part of being a parent means putting their needs first before you brutally slaughter them.
I have some reservations about showing them this movie where the house itself is the monster, only for them to turn around and see that the monster is just some guy with an axe (me.) Kinda feels like a de-escalation.
An adaptation of the Roald Dahl classic directed by one of my favorite filmmakers Nicolas Roeg! At first, I thought “This would be a great entry point into Roeg’s filmography for the kids!” but then I was like “Oh, right, I’m murdering them.”
Bet you never thought you would see a Rob Zombie film on a list of family-friendly movies, but his recent Munsters reboot is squeaky clean. Don’t worry though, once the movie ends things are going to get “House of 1000 Corpses” around here real fast.
It’s got great spooky ambiance, but maybe not the right fit since the plot revolves around the protagonist being a virgin. I’m worried our youngest will ask me what a virgin is, and then we’ll have to have an awkward talk before THE URGE forces me to decapitate her with an axe.
This would be sort of an ironic choice since our own dog, a pit/lab mix by the name of Mr. Hamburger, is the only member of the family who is going to survive this night. I am a serial murderer of families, not some dipshit animal abuser!
Ghost and zombies and curses, oh my! “ParaNorman” packs a lot of spooky stuff into its 92-minute runtime, which is good, because that’s exactly how long the Sheffields have to experience as much as possible.
It’s short and sweet, just like my kid’s lives are about to be.
This one pushes the boundaries of PG-13 a bit and technically might be a little scarier than our youngest is used to, but come on. They’re all about to die. Live a little.
Nothing whets your appetite for brutal axe murder more than a strait-to-video ‘90s Olson Twins movie.
Maybe if the kids spent less time asking “What do toys get up to when we’re not looking” and more time asking “How come our new dad doesn’t let us in the tool shed” they would see tonight’s bloodbath coming.