Lately, whenever I stick my head out the window to see what's the haps, it comes back covered in layers of clammy fog. I know the goddamn devil sun is still lurking behind the clouds, though, because they're fluorescent grey and burn my eyeballs. It's June, and I'm wearing the sweater my mom got me for Jewish Christmas. What gives? I've had to come up with some indoor activities, like drinking tea and making lists of my faults and tasting new pills and listening to shoegaze. It's almost like being in Liverpool or Glasgow (I have never been to Liverpool or Glasgow). Is it mere happenstance that this moist mindfuck coincides with an explosion of excellent post punk, Brit pop, and other U.K. influenced creations? Or have these bands somehow combined forces to precipitate a climate change? Conspiracy or not, they're a lot of gloomy fun.

Blank Dogs

A shadowy figure until recently, Mike Sniper, a.k.a. Blank Dogs, makes post punk that's simultaneously spooky and infectious. His new EP, Under and Under, might be his most accessible affair yet; his hooks capture the heart-clutching loveliness of Joy Division and New Order, while lo-fi production and vocal tracks that sound as if they're coming from underwater keep things dirty. Spacey sound effects and dreamy lyrical imagery add a somewhat cinematic element.

A solo artist who couldn't be bothered with press photos, he gathered an unintentional amount of buzz for keeping his face and identity hidden, until the mystique threatened to overtake the music and he moved to fix that by getting a band together, playing live and letting everyone know he's just a regular guy who goes to shows and runs a label, not some hooded phantasm. I had the good fortune of meeting him recently and found him to be quite personable, that is, until he vanished in a puff of smoke.



Little Boots

Equally hardworking but vastly different from Blank Dogs, U.K. popster Little Boots (a.k.a. Victoria Hesketh of Blackpool, England) explores two conflicting poles of dance music: on the one hand, she's necessarily glam and performs to hip-shaking crowds wearing tight and glittery little numbers; on the other, the magic of the Internet has allowed us a peek into her daily life as she revels in the inherent geekiness of spending hours alone in one's room with electronics. There's something more than a little thrilling about going along for the ride as she builds a club hit from a few simple elements, tests it out in her pajamas, then performs it on late night television a few months later. I'm still not sure exactly how a Stylophone works, but she makes it look and sound just as good as Bowie did on his early hit, "Space Oddity."



Her recently released single, "New in Town," brings me back to the spring of 2002, when I went to Reading ostensibly for a debate tournament but mainly to drink alcopops and dance in packed house parties while wondering if my debate partner wanted to kiss me. Are you out there, James Tabor? I hope you've made something of yourself, you egotistical British bastard.



She's currently touring everywhere and then some in support of her debut album, Hands. Go experience her adorability firsthand.

The Slits Return

-Ari Upp to Impose.tv, March 2008

Bless their hearts. The Slits participated in the first wave of punk when they were just teenagers, bringing a much needed dose of wry feminism to the movement when they toured with The Clash and the Buzzcocks in the late 1970's. They quickly progressed beyond the parameters of the genre, using primal, disembodied female sounds and reggae beats to create something uniquely subversive. By the time they recorded their first album in 1979, they'd grown into a style some call post punk and others consider a category all on its own.

In a development that should warm the hearts of all you tough/sexy woman enthusiasts, founding member Ari Upp reformed the Slits with a mixture of old and new members in 2006 after a 25-year hiatus and recorded a three-song EP of new material. That's not nearly enough Slits for me, so I was psyched to find out they've got a full-length due out in October. I haven't gotten my dirty hands on it yet (and would hate to see what Ari would do to anyone who leaked it) but I'm betting it'll be a combination of their signature "punky reggae" and some new sounds we're not expecting.



She and Him and Moz

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the meta-awesomeness that is She and Him. You see, in the quirky indie film that I anticipate someone will make about my life, yours truly will doubtlessly be played by Zooey Deschanel. But Zooey also made one of my favorite albums of last year, so to prepare for this role she'll need to listen to...her own music. And now I hear tell that She and Him have covered a song by my platonic husband Morrissey for the film 500 Days of Summer. How incestuous.

The soundtrack looks so good, I'll probably see it for that alone, even though the trailer reveals that it will inevitably make me cry (he loves her! she's a free spirit who doesn't do relationships!). The Smiths, Regina Spektor, The Black Lips, Carla Bruni, and Wolfmother all appear on the tracklist. I appreciate the thought director Marc Webb seems to have put into the film's music; there's a great, spoiler-free breakdown of it here.

He even responds graciously to The Playlist's prediction that the movie will suck more precious, sugary, cock and ruin more good songs than Garden State (which, for the record, also made me cry):

You tell em, Webb! Here's hoping this film will be good enough so I don't feel all self-loathing and manipulated for turning on the waterworks (fuck you, Zach Braff).

Love and Rockets Tribute Album

It doesn't get much more English than this: a slew of bands influenced by Love and Rockets are releasing a tribute album to the legendary Northampton alternative rock band. It will include tracks from the likes of The Flaming Lips, Black Francis, War Tapes, a Place to Bury Strangers, and not one but three friends of SG: the Dandy Warhols, Chantal Claret of Morningwood, and Maynard James Keenan's Puscifer. I've already ranted for far too long, so I'll let the album's MySpace page speak for itself. Until next time, kids, keep warm and dry, and remember to wear your Wellies...I don't want you catching cold.




Hunter is a Brooklyn-based writer currently contributing to Vice, The New York Press, Impose, and The L Magazine. If you email her at hunter.suicide AT gmail DOT com, chances are she'd love to add your publication to that list. Seriously, she's got some time on her hands.