MySpace a place for friends

WE WANT TO PLAY YOUR HOUSE, YOUR TOWN, YOUR SISTER'S TOWN, YOUR BOYFRIEND'S TOWN. LET US PLAY!!!!!!!!!!! GET IN TOUCH! WE AIM TO HAVE A GOOD TIME ALL THE TIME.

Our top friends is mostly made up of the best bands in Boston. CHECK THAT SHIT OUT! Be the first on your block to get hip to the NEW Boston SOUNDS.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- About five hours into the show Friday night at the Cambridge YMCA, MC and resident Whitehaus scribe Brian S. Ellis once again climbs on stage in a pool-shark three-piece suit to introduce the Needy Visions. “We knew we had to get the greatest band that Weymouth, Massachusetts, has ever produced. And we did research.” Needy Visions frontman Dan Shea looks out into a darkened auditorium teeming with Whitehaus denizens and assorted spectators amped for the second annual Blastfest — a 13-act festival of folk, rock, folk rock, freak folk, and spoken word — and says, “No disrespect, but I guess you haven’t heard of Siege? They started grind.” A wave of indifference from the audience. “Okay, didn’t think so.” It was a good sign anyway for the Visions, who proceeded to whip up the kind of 15-minute dance party I thought existed only on American Bandstand, all tinny guitars and ’60s-pop clapping parts. -Boston Phoenix ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Within 30 seconds of flipping open the Myspace for Boston’s Needy Visions, it’s clear they’ve got some little bit of that magic that knocks a current psych-garage band up from the endless ranks of superficially similar bands and into that it’s-so-simple-why-can’t-I-do-that territory. Nothing too tricky, it seems, about the repeated guitar chords or pulsing ancestral rock rhythms, even with that bit of country twang they add to the mix, but even in rough, reverb-blasted live recordings, there’s a magnetic confidence and swagger here that pulls you right in. And then the double-speed-strumming solo comes in, clashingly out of tune, and everything grinds down and it’s perfect." -Impose Magazine(imposemagazine.com) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The opening lyrics of “Weymouth” are “We’re just a bunch of dudes hanging out.” I was getting ready to unearth the sarcophagus of discredited indie methodology and exhume the word “slacker” for one final exhibition, but it proved unnecessary! Despite the near-fatal guys-hangin’-out vibe, there is something intangibly nonterrible about the track. The ironic Unsolved Mysteries nostalgia of “Mac’s Big Secret” should have been the final killing blow: “Robert Stack, Robert Stack, walkin’ in the alley talkin’ UFOs and shit like that,” but the track clings to life despite its most valiant efforts to be terrible. What’s the deal? Why haven’t I turned this off? Something’s good about it, but I don’t know what. Can’t be the tunes, can’t be the singer, certainly can’t be the musicianship. It’s just fucking got that glow, like in The Last Dragon. -http://slushpilemag.com