The Damnwells are an indie rock band from Brooklyn, New York, who are signed to Zoe/Rounder Records. The band formed in 2001 and have released two full length albums. The first, "Bastards of the Beat," was recorded in a storage space and in lead singer and songwriter Alex Dezen's bedroom. It was released on Epic Records (Sony/BMG) in April of 2003. The Damnwells' second full length album, "Air Stereo," was recorded at Brooklyn Recording studios in Brooklyn, NY for Epic Records, but was released on Zoe/Rounder Records after the band was let go from their recording contract with Epic in January of 2006. "Air Stereo" was released in stores nationwide on Aug 15, 2006.

The Damnwells have shared the stage with many superstars over the years, such as The Dixie Chicks, Cheap Trick, The Fray and Los Lonely Boys.

A documentary detailing the Damnwells' struggles has just been completed, entitled "Golden Days." The film was directed and shot by documentary filmmaker Chris Suchorsky, and won Best Documentary at the 2007 Phoenix Film Festival in April of 2007.

On April 4th, 2008, Alex Dezen announced on MySpace that the band would most likely not appear in its original formation anymore. He plans to release a studio album in the summer of 2008 together with drummer Andrew Ratcliffe, bassist Adrian Dickey, pianist/guitarist Freddy Hall, and producer Wes Kidd. On his blog, Dezen states that "The Damnwells has always been about my songs with extremely talented musicians and producers collaborating. The personnel have changed, but the essence [...] remains the same." As of March recording is completed with only mixing and mastering left to do. The record was recorded over the course of seven days and features many new tracks which have been posted on YouTube in acoustic form.[

Lately, The Dollyrots and their music have been turning up everywhere. The band has shared stages with the like-minded Muffs and Soviettes, they're currently touring the nation, and they'll be hooking up with the Warped Tour in July. Dollyrots songs have been used on CSI:NY, and frontwoman Kelly Ogden appeared in an episode of the program as the bassist of a fictitious rock group (and even got to be "murdered" on network TV by a bandmate! How punk is that?) The exuberant "Watch Me Go (Kissed Me, Killed Me)" is set to be featured on The Simple Life; "This Cruch" received airtime on The Style Network and lead single "Because I'm Awesome" on Ugly Betty. Sirius Radio deejay and rock 'n' roll hero Little Steven named "Because I'm Awesome" the "coolest song in the world".

The track offers some ironic self-affirmation. It's all done with a wink and put-on pout, and it's as much a critique of the pomp and hyperbole of the music industry as it is a commentary on culture of self-promotion in Los Angeles. For the video, they've also found the perfect metaphor: the tryouts of American Idol. The clip finds the band at the filming of a hypothetical reality show called Because I'm Awesome, and the camera scans the long lines of disaffected performers waiting to strut their stuff. The judges are here, too, leaning back in their padded chairs, pointing pens at the would-be rock stars, and critiquing the performances with a diagnostic eye and a sense of entitlement. The three Dollyrots stand before the logo in different guises: a California girl, a cowboy, a rapper in a hoodie, a glamour queen in a black dress, an anarchic cheerleader. Ogden even puts on a bunny suit with a gas mask and shoves the other contestants. The Dollyrots won't play by the rules; they're storming the gates of the fame industry on their own terms, and according to their own offbeat logic.

Then again, The Exies have always been independents at heart; they're a band unafraid to take risks and make bold moves. For instance, their second 2007 single isn't an album cut at all - it's an Internet-only release, and it's accompanied by an incendiary clip that's already become a sensation on video-sharing sites like YouTube. "God We Look Good (Going Down In Flames)" is a gutsy broadside against the state of contemporary media, a critique of celebrity culture, and a savaging of that which passes for political discourse on the modern airwaves. We have, Stevens seems to be suggesting, lost our nerve at a crucial moment, and we've become distracted by sideshows. "This is the pill, the pill that we swallow," he howls, his reference to The Matrix evident, "the death of us all, the cash, the kill - they're selling us off to make the deal."

The video for "God We Look Good (Going Down In Flames)" is similarly confrontational - and similarly unapologetic. Images flash by, one after another, none lingering on the screen for more than a second. It's like channel-surfing on speed, and at this rate, every shot projected becomes near-subliminal and loaded with meaning. But none of the footage assembled by The Exies will feel unfamiliar to anybody who's got a television: we're shown the faces of complicit politicians, shots of violence, sex, weeping celebrities carted off to prison, missiles, dollar signs, works of fine art, religious symbols, guns. The words "are you ready to go?" and "sell out" struggle to surface; they're a message fighting its way through the chaos. Stevens, too, breaks into the frame from time to time, and he forces his way straight up to the camera to deliver his accusation, as if he's besieged on all sides and wants to make sure he's getting his message across. He grabs the attention of the lens and hangs on to his connection with his audience while he can, like a pit bull with its prey in its mouth. But the tilt-a-whirl of images rushes on, oblivious to objection and seemingly beyond control. Who cycles through these channels, and who stands behind the rush of content that now fills the televised airwaves? The implication here is that nobody is in control: that, instead, we're all being washed downstream by a torrent of meaningless news and gossip, one greased by money and power but generated and perpetuated by its own sick momentum.

The members of The Frantic are certainly young: they've been playing together in their Chicagoland hometown since they were 9, and they're still all teenagers. But their youth and exuberance isn't the first thing you'll notice about the band. Instead, they lead with their furious pop-punk guitar attack and their memorable riffs and melodies. The Frantic write songs that jump out of the speakers, grab listeners, and don't let go - and frontman Kyle Dee is the sort of arresting presence on the microphone whose voice, once heard, can't easily be forgotten. Consider "Audio & Murder", the lead single and title track from their upcoming debut. The song really is one giant, glistening hook: a slice of three-chord punk majesty reminiscent of Alkaline Trio at their most direct. The band cuts right to the chase, giving listeners an irresistible shout-along chorus, an explosive beat, and a manic, invigorating performance by Kyle Dee and crew. And like all great punk songs, it's over before you know it - it blows in on a gale of guitar distortion, makes its point with emphasis, and ends at just above the two-minute mark, leaving you hungry for more.

Bobby Harlow is a first and foremost an ace tunesmith, and his attention to detail is second to none in Detroit, and maybe the world. He's also one of the most protean singers on the scene: he can purr over a psychedelic breakdown like Syd Barrett, channel expansive Ray Davies, and then shout along with the distorted guitars like Roky Erickson at his wildest. The rest of the band follows suit, coaxing vintage sounds out of their amplifiers and charging through the tracks on Howl On The Haunted Beat You Ride with the fervor of RnB junkies. Their highly stylized creativity extends to their album art: the cover of Howl is pure psychedelia, and the song titles have been scribbled in shaky white-ink bubble letters of the sort you might find on old MC5 gig posters. Cartoonist M. Wartella exploded into the animation world after being featured on MTV2's cult-favorite Wonder Showzen. His sequential work has appeared in anthologies from D.C. Comics to Fantagraphics Books and in magazines including Andy Warhol's Interview and Spin. His illustrations have appeared on the cover of Vice Magazine (his infamous and now extremely rare scratch-off cover) and regularly in Nickelodeon Magazine. M. Wartella handles the band's visual aesthetic, and has blessed the quartet with one of the most striking logos in underground rock.

Wartella's also responsible for the animation in the clip for "You Go Bangin' On", which was animated by hand on top of every frame to achieve maximum "psych-out" effect. As the band plays against the black background, waves of Saturday-morning cartoon color flow from their instruments - a harmonica produces a wash of hot pink, yellow and blue waves, white zigzags fly up from the hi-hat, red lightning shakes free from maracas, and bright flowers blink into life around Krautner's fretboard. The kick-drum becomes a canvas for the band's lyrics (as well as other messages), and vibrations shoot from Harlow's dancing body.

We can't speak for everybody, but we think that puppets in music videos always steal the show. And when you want a puppet, why not go to the best? The Monkey Boys have placed their own plush characters in Avenue Q, Winnie The Pooh Live, Go Diego Go!, Little Shop Of Horrors, and countless adverts and shorts. Their style - think Muppets with an edge - is instantly recognizable, and their unerring ability to bring their characters' personalities to vivid life in a few gestures has won them fans around the world. Those most familiar with the Monkey Boys for their work in offbeat kids' productions may be surprised to know that they also designed the puppets for the decidedly-adult Crank Yankers. They've got no problem representing grownup entertainers - as their all-Muppet incarnation of The Greyboy Allstars (and their audience) demonstrates! Then again, it's easy to see why puppeteers would be attracted to the Greyboy Allstars. The five members of the San Diego soul-jazz band exude personality: each musician brings a distinct style and character to the collective. What Happened To Television?, the group's latest release, is the Allstars' first set of new material in a decade, but that doesn't mean the members haven't been busy. DJ Greyboy has continued to release records under his own name; charismatic sax man and founding member Karl Denson has fronted several bands of his own; electrifying B-3 organist Robert Walter has toured with (among many others) Fred Wesley, Steve Kimock, and Phil Upchurch; Elgin Park (aka Michael Andrews) has scored the critically praised films Donnie Darko and Me and You & Everyone We Know; electrifying B-3 organist Robert Walter has toured with (among many others) Fred Wesley, Steve Kimock, and Phil Upchurch. What Happened To Television? - and the tour that followed its celebrated release - brings back the original Greyboy Allstars lineup that helped spark the soul-jazz renaissance of the mid-Nineties. The five instrumentalists were pretty stunning back then; now, with ten years' further experience in cross-pollinating American musical styles, they're absolutely unstoppable. The hip-shaking "Still Waiting" may just be the most irresistible thing they've ever recorded. Beginning with a scratchy guitar riff and a spare, funky drumbeat, it soon explodes into a groove altogether worthy of the Meters. (The track even opens with a Neville-style scream!) In classic New Orleans style, the cut is punctuated by thrilling saxophone and Hammond organ rides, but it's the emotive, soulful lead vocal that makes "Still Waiting" so undeniable. As always, all five Greyboy Allstars turn in remarkable instrumental performances: rarely has a band this tight ever sounded so relaxed and cool. Unsurprisingly, Greyboy Allstars shows often become dance parties. A video of the wild moves and motion on the floor at an Allstars performance would have suited "Still Waiting" just fine; instead, directors Josh Hassin and Matt Goldman have upped the ante considerably. In their inspired clip, everybody in the concert hall - from the band to the bartender to the patrons shaking it to the backbeat - is a Monkey Boys puppet. The muppets representing the Allstars themselves are detailed and expressive, and really do seem to be performing the song; such is the magic of the Monkey Boys animation. Out in the audience, we encounter all the familiar types: the dancefloor bully, the sexy rug-cutter, kissing couples and fall-down drunks at the bar, the poor old man whose refreshment keeps getting spilled. So engrossing and lifelike are the characters that you may forget you're watching plushies, and that the actual puppetry involved in the "Still Waiting" clip is near-heroic in its complexity. In one sequence, a patron gets mad that another clubgoer is dancing with his girl: he picks up the offender, swings him by his ankles, and throws him onstage where he crash-lands atop the organ. Unfazed, the puppet Robert Walter clears him away with one arm, and launches into his solo with another!

Greg Dulli and Mark Lanegan have walked parallel paths: both first came to national recognition as the frontmen for ferocious indie rock bands, and have since explored more sedate (though no less dark) territory in critically-respected solo projects. And while grunge and alt-rock fans loved them both, Afghan Whigs and Screaming Trees boldly stood outside the conventions of the times. Lanegan's Screaming Trees were overtly psychedelic and often mind-altering, while Dulli's work for the Whigs featured dense, literary and hallucinatory lyricism, and incorporated elements from classic soul and R&B. Since the dissolution of the Afghan Whigs, Greg Dulli has devoted himself to the brooding, conceptually-rich Twilight Singers project; Mark Lanegan's post-Trees resume includes time spent as a singer for Queens Of The Stone Age, an enthusiastically-received collaboration with Isobel Campbell of Belle & Sebastian, and several magnificently bleak projects of his own. Lanegan also contributed vocals to Blackberry Belle, the grim and gorgeous 2003 Twilight Singers album; Dulli returned the favor with a guest appearance on Lanegan's Bubblegum. Dulli and Lanegan had known and respected each other for years - and after the aesthetic successes of Blackberry Belle, they immediately began work on the songs that have become Saturnalia. The Gutter Twins is their band together, and it's as dark, troubling, and irresistible as anything they've ever been associated with. Arguably, these two necromancers have amplified and intensified each other's magic. On Saturnalia, Dulli's barbed-wire guitar and Lanegan's whiskey-soaked baritone feel like twin sides of the same blade - and, as always, the lyricism is desperate, honest, human, and impossible to dismiss. "These are songs drawn from the Gothic tradition," raves Marisa Brown in her All-Music Guide review, "where good and evil and pleasure and pain crisscross and entwine indelibly, where the secular and the sacred have no clear defining lines." "All Misery/Flowers", the lead single, is a junkie's desperate refrain - the killer drug is never made clear, but it could be anything from heroin to religion to love. Throughout, Lanegan sounds on the verge of a breakdown - steeling himself against deterioration, as if the power of his own voice is the only thing that's keeping him from falling to pieces. "I tell you my story so that you might save me", he sings, right at the harrowing end; there's no indication whether the lover addressed - or the Lord above - thinks he's anything other than a street-crazy. Hula-hoop girls, gold-lame stage-curtains, and Big Easy marching bands don't impart much levity to the engrossing video for "All Misery/Flowers". Instead, they add to the feeling of decadence and sleaze that pervades the compelling clip. Lanegan's camera-presence is remarkable: although he appears to be in a trance throughout his performance, he still commands the lens. Meanwhile, Dulli is a ghostly figure on the piano, cool and detached behind his shades. Together, they walk past the mausoleums of a New Orleans cemetery; in their wake, a stage-dancer twists between the tombstones. Images of the singers blur, float, and slide through the frames; often, their partially-transparent faces are superimposed over shots of flames, dancing girls, microphones, musical instruments. A setting sun cuts between low houses; Dulli and Lanegan stride across an iron bridge. The entire clip is bathed in red light - and devilish illumination seems to radiate from the faces of the two legends as they sing.