As a kid, Olly Murs heard the adage that only two career paths that could lead a lad out of England: becoming a rock star or a professional soccer player. He was counting on the latter.
“Football was something that I loved massively,” he says of his years playing semi-pro for Whitham Town. “I used to just work 9 to 5 at a job and play football, and it was a non-league team, but I was trying to break into professional. I never had anything else to look forward to, really.”
And then? The accident. And everything turned bleak.
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San Francisco-based house-DJ duo on the rise Bells & Whistles returns to South of Market nightclub Harlot today, part of the busiest year ever for young Zack Yakovlev and Yanick Rieffel. Bells & Whistles plays the “Sound” night at the swanky club alongside Lisbona, supporting PBR Streetgang. Expect good times, fierce-looking ladies and some deep house, Yakovlev says.
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Sometimes discretion is simply the better part of valor — just ask Paula Cole. After winning a 1997 Grammy for best new artist — and composing the addictive theme song to “Dawson’s Creek,” “I Don’t Want to Wait” — the Berklee-schooled singer-songwriter saw the writing on the wall. “There was a huge change in the culture,” she says.
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On her BRIT Award-winning 2007 debut, “Made of Bricks,” Kate Nash was a Strawberry Shortcake-faced English teen who traded in whimsical sung-spoken folk ditties.
She’s grown up.
Now 25, she’s got a new fashion sense, a Rogue-from-“X-Men” hairstyle, a bratty all-female backing band, a punk album called “Girl Talk” (penned after her breakup with The Cribs’ Ryan Jarman), and an acting career in movies such as “Syrup,” “The Powder Room” and “Greetings From Tim Buckley.”
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Rock ’n’ roll is a simple thing — it’s about sex. And moving, walking, talking. Living, in other words. And The Rolling Stones embody that.
The wiry 69-year-old lead singer, strutting and skipping around an enormous stage shaped like his own enormous mouth and tongue, with a microphone occasionally shoved down the front of his extremely tight jeans, is not hiding anything from the roughly 17,000 people who paid stupendous sums to see him do what he and his friends have been doing for 50 years.
It’s all out there.
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Decadent Finnish rocker Ville Valo has never gone in for self-analysis. Always moving so fast with his Goth-metal outfit HIM, he barely has noticed the nearly two decades flying by since its formation.
But for the band’s melodic new CD “Tears on Tape,” he was forced to stop and take serious stock, because a nerve-damaging hand injury sidelined his drummer Gas, and the group, for more than eight months.
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Sam Beam, like Alexander, can survey his kingdom and weep for lack of further worlds to conquer. At this point in his career, under the sobriquet of Iron and Wine, the folk singer has mastered every art form he’s attempted. He’s directed short films and videos, written screenplays, painted or designed almost every album cover in his catalog, and – while he was first setting his Rimbaud-evocative poetry to music over a decade ago – taught film and cinematography classes at a Florida university. He plans to helm a feature-length movie in the near future.
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Unlike their predecessors Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash, the Avett Brothers of North Carolina don’t write songs about characters in faraway places. Seth and Scott Avett stick to songs about themselves.
There’s little third-person storytelling, and everything is true.
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“This album should be played loud,” read the line notes of “Small Fires,” the new third outing from Bay Area blues-rockers The Stone Foxes. And rightly so. The disc – anchored in the gravelly vocals of frontman Spence Koehler and fiery harmonica of his drumming brother Shannon Koehler) crackles with Willie Dixon fervor, from the sinewy “Everybody Knows” to a stomping “Ulysses Jones,” a gravelly “Cotto,” and the forlorn “Goodnight Moon,” sung from the perspective of a homeless man.
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Electronic music is having the Year of the Monkey.
Brooklyn, N.Y.-based downtempo producer Bonobo brings his spectacular 15-piece live band and light show — as well as iconic singer Erykah Badu — to the sold-out Warfield on Friday.
The band and Badu perform a reconstructed version of Bonobo’s (aka Simon Green’s) hit new record, “The North Borders,” as well as cuts from his killer back catalog.
It’s a psychic homecoming of sorts for the U.K.-raised maker of relaxed, organic tracks.
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