"Dallas is A..."


I mean c'mon... Edie Brickell (ugghh, gag me with a Smurf),
Shallow Reign (who got a deal with RCA and are gimpy death
rocksters on some kind of weird nutmeg overdose plane of
existence - corny and pretentious is no way to go thru
life, son) and all the rest of that Deep Ellum/Dress in
Black/Sportcoats in June crap.  Except, except for this
band that I saw last Saturday.  Course of Empire is their
name.  A pretty stupid one, I know, don't let it fool you
though.  These guys exemplify the reasons that kick-in-
the-head, brutal rock mania will always exist.  The pure
rage and energy of a social outcast, funneled through the
rampant testosterone of violently shimmering creative
juices, creates a kind of sound that makes you conjure up
your darkest emotions without realizing it.  With a 
singer that drinks deep from the same well as Kit Rachlis
and Iggy Stooge and a one-hundred-drums-rule-thunder
chorus, Course of Empire is as physical and emotional as
you can get without resorting to a murder of passion.