I’m still a robot, Papa

IMA Robot

IMA Robot

Virgin Records

It’s been a while since a punk band did something different and actually received mainstream attention. Part snotty punk metal, part lo-fi Devo-ish synth and all energized rockin,’ IMA Robot could be the next “big thing” with the right amount of video play and PR.

Since it’s comparison day in these reviews, here’s a far fetched one: IMA Robot is the punk version of ridiculous butt-rock opera The Darkness (the latest flavor). You wouldn’t be doing yourself any damage by picking this one up and then seeing them play the Aladdin on March 8 before they move on to bigger venues.

Papa M

Hole of Burning Alms

Drag City

Slint man Dave Pajo has gone and done everyone a favor and re-released his more obscure EPs and B-sides (1995-2000) onto one disc. Not all these tracks will get your foot tapping, but the few that do are, alone, worth the purchase.

In the liner notes, Pajo writes about playing everything on the album: “I was producer, engineer, songwriter, pencil sharpener, art director, etc. Yeah I know, ‘d.i.y.’ ‘lo-fi’ ‘indie’ … but I wasn’t thinking about it in those parameters. I was thinking about that Mormon hippie I met on the survival course in Arizona that wouldn’t cut his hair unless he made the tools himself … so he tied grass around his hair at the length he wanted and burned the rest.”

It’s always nice to hear from the artist. I wonder if all that has anything to do with the title?

The Stills

Logic Will Break Your Heart

Vice Recordings

If The Stills sound like Coldplay and Coldplay sounds like the old Radiohead and the old Radiohead sounds like Pink Floyd and … oh, forget it. Vice Recordings put this album out, which is weird if you’ve read the acidic and hilarious Vice Magazine and then listened to this. The Stills are a nostalgic heartsick Coldplay with The Strokes’ catchiness and Explosions in the Sky-style guitar work. Basically, it’s not ground breaking stuff. They play Berbati’s Feb. 29. It’ll be packed and most likely sold out. Go there and grab people’s asses, but say “excuse me.”