The Hooten Hallers These guys are right the hell on, playing just balls to the plasterboard blues rock. Smoke and whiskey vocals mingle with gruff falsetto harmonies, with bits of real wailing guitar intercepted. Like Jack White met up with George Thorogood, got all loaded up on blow and tried to sober up by jamming booze into their guts. It’s a free blowing, go screw yourself, fest of well, hooting and hollering. They put a record out fairly recently. You should go get it and like the song says, “just leave me alone.” Village Bicycle Now, ol’ Axelrod has always been of the persuasion that the only place in rock for a broad was on her knees or getting me a sandwich. But see I had a little incident back in ’05 at a Denny’s in Gary, Indiana, and the courts suggested I take one of them hippie sensitivity courses. Now I’m a regular old dandy full of feelings and whatnot. It’s great. Anyways, this outfit of indie popster isn’t all bubblegum and kitties, they have a moodier side that shines through on tracks like “Moon Balloons” and “Chanty.” But you know how to use Google, so go find out for yourself. The Screaming Smolder Butt Bitches Do not Google this band’s name while you’re at work, the library, or surfing the net with your grandma. This three piece, all-girl punk band from Akron takes campy raunch to a whole new and absolutely fun level. If you’re somehow offended by their name, then you’re way too uptight. With sloppy punk fury coming out in 30 second bursts these gals are belting out pure party jams. It’s like Sir Paul McCartney said, “all you need is screaming smolder butt bitches, screaming smoldering butt bitches is all you need.”