By the time you read this, dear reader, it will be Monday morning and if the rumors are true there will be a new Radiohead EP waiting on your doorstep for you to take in and love. That is, unless nothing happens at all and the wild rumors flying around the internet are false. But when are internet rumors ever false? Rhetorical question, don’t answer that.

All this uncertainty is pretty rough on us reviewers. Here at Radio Exile we pride ourselves on getting our reviews out the day albums come out. As such we have prepared a review for this new hypothetical Radiohead release. True, we haven’t heard the release yet, or even know what it is if it even exists, but that shouldn’t stop us. Reviewers review albums without listening to them all the time.

So we did what we had to. We wrote the framework of the outline and provided options for all the unknowns. Think of this almost as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Book, Radiohead style. …read full article…

One of my all time favorite piece of music writing was a 2002 Pitchfork article by Rob Mitchum entitled Days Rock Died. In the piece, Rob speculates as to different days that rock died due to hypothetical image shattering actions by rock gods. For instance, Mitchum wrote about Who guitarist Pete Townshend:

January 13th, 1989: Pete Townshend, on an off day of The Who’s US tour, is dragged along on a shopping trip with his wife. While reluctantly browsing through the men’s section at Kohl’s, Townshend’s wife attempts to talk him into purchasing a pair of khaki relaxed fit Dockers. Townshend agrees to try the pants on in an effort to appease his spouse, but surprisingly finds that he likes the way the pants cover up his increasingly chubby thighs while allowing greater freedom of leg movement. To the great pleasure of Mrs. Townshend and the disgust of the rock community, he buys four pairs.

It has been 7 years since the original piece was published. We think it is time for an update. …read full article…

Merriweather Post Pavilion, for those who are apparently living under an effing rock, is the critically-acclaimed eighth studio album by Animal Collective, and is named after the Columbia, Maryland venue of the same name. That’s not even the coolest thing about this album: if you look at the cover long enough, it ripples. It’s an optical illusion.

What – you didn’t notice? Well, everyone else noticed. Did anyone else take the time to reach out and find the “other” potential covers for the album? (Not really, but this was too fun to pass up!)

Radio Exile did. Here are the Top Seven Rejected Merriweather Post Pavilion Covers …read full article…

It’s always sad to see the originator of a genre fade into obscurity and irrelevance. If they’re lucky, they’ll have made their mark in the mainstream (such as Elvis Presley) but all so often, like a DJ Kool Herc, they never get their chance, swallowed up by the very monster they created. Osama Bin Laden [Myspace] is one of the lucky few who managed to pioneer a genre and yet still achieved significant mainstream successes. Which is why it makes it so hard to say this, but I fear Osama Bin Laden is finished, spent as a creative force. …read full article…

(Author’s Note: This is a fictional work I wrote that is intended as a bit of a hoax/parody of ridiculous indie scenes and music writing. I have noooo idea if it’s appropriate for anywhere, nevermind Radio Exile, but if you’re looking for something for April Fools Day or if you’re in the mood to prank some people, use this “news” piece)

I have seen the future of rock and roll it was violating a chicken. Yes, you read that correctly. Before I go any further let me first say that I find such behavior revolting, even as an artistic statement. But as an artistic statement it is bold, daring, and enthralling.

Wolfgang Fuck was the band. They are the founders and driving force behind upstate New York’s Bestiality-core scene, which is centered in Poughkeepsie, a faded industrial center bordered on three sides by farmland and the Hudson River on the forth. The scene is, for reasons that should be obvious, highly underground. Shows generally take place in barns located outside of town or in abandoned inner city industrial buildings and are always late at night. So underground is the scene that it inhabits as a Fight Club-esque existence. The majority of fans are friends of or in the bands of the scene and shows are invitation only. Attendees are explicitly forbidden to discuss shows. This is, to the best of my knowledge, the first published account of the scene. …read full article…