Chevelle’s Bright as Blasphemy is basically the sound of a midlife crisis set to distortion pedals. After a four-year break, Pete Loeffler decided he’d just do everything himself—because nothing says “creative harmony” like firing the band in your head. The result? A record that’s heavy enough to snap your neck but introspective enough to remind you that Chevelle is still brooding in a corner somewhere, writing riffs about existential despair like it’s still 2002.

The album title itself, Bright as Blasphemy, is peak Chevelle: dramatic, vaguely spiritual, and guaranteed to make your mom frown when she sees it on your Spotify queue. Sonically, it’s Chevelle 101—drop-tuned guitars grinding like a cement mixer, lyrics drenched in apocalyptic gloom, and choruses that scream, “We could’ve been on the Daredevil soundtrack too!”

Is it groundbreaking? Not unless you count the ground they’ve been stomping on for two decades straight. But hey, if you’ve ever thought, “What if Tool was less weird and more bummed out about their Home Depot bill?” then congratulations, this album is your spirit animal.

In short: Bright as Blasphemy is Chevelle doing what they do best—making the same storm cloud over and over, and somehow, you’ll still put it on repeat when you want to feel like an angsty teenager with a mortgage.

Overview

Chevelle has always been the dependable Honda Civic of hard rock: reliable, sturdy, gets the job done, but nobody’s turning their head at the stoplight. Bright as Blasphemy is their 10th studio album, and if you thought they were going to reinvent themselves this far in, bless your optimistic little heart. Spoiler: they didn’t. Pete Loeffler just doubled down on sounding like a pissed-off Tool fan who never got the invite to join the band.

Sound & Production

The guitars are heavy, chunky, and indistinguishable from the last nine albums—like someone copy-pasted riffs from Wonder What’s Next, dragged them into 2025, and sprinkled existential dread on top. The production is crisp enough to let you hear every downstroke and every “who hurt you, Pete?” vocal take. It’s polished, but in the way a steak knife is polished: still meant to stab.

Themes & Lyrics

Ah yes, Chevelle’s favorite subject: the apocalypse. Pete Loeffler’s lyrics continue their long tradition of sounding deep in theory but reading like a teenager’s black notebook in practice. You get plenty of lines about fire, sin, the end of everything, and other cheery topics—like if Shakespeare wrote sonnets exclusively about therapy bills.

If you’re looking for bangers about partying, love, or literally anything besides doom, you’ve opened the wrong album. Chevelle exists to remind you that life is a flaming wreck, but at least you can headbang while it burns.

Track Highlights

(Note: “highlight” is relative. It’s like pointing out the tallest kid in middle school—sure, but let’s not pretend anyone’s impressed.)

• Opening Track – Starts heavy, stays heavy. Big shock. If you thought Chevelle would open with an acoustic ballad, congratulations, you’re hilarious.
• Middle Tracks – A blur of distorted riffs and Pete yelling about despair, betrayal, or cosmic futility. Honestly, you could shuffle the tracklist and no one would notice.
• Closing Track – The classic “slow burn” that builds up to a cathartic scream. It’s supposed to feel profound, but really it’s just Pete hitting “save as” on the same template from 2004.

Final Verdict

Bright as Blasphemy is not a reinvention—it’s Chevelle putting on their favorite pair of ripped jeans and insisting they still fit. It’s heavier than your average radio rock, moodier than your average mall goth, and exactly what you’d expect from a band that has survived two decades by refusing to change more than three notes at a time.

If you’re a diehard fan, you’ll love it because it sounds like Chevelle. If you’re not, you’ll shrug and put it down after two songs. Either way, Pete Loeffler will keep writing these brooding riffs until the sun explodes, and frankly, that’s kind of comforting.

Score: 7/10 – Perfect background music for glaring at drywall and pretending your Ikea bookshelf wronged you.

The post Chevelle – Bright as Blasphemy Review first appeared on Project Backstage.

Mark Volman, one of the founding members of the iconic 1960s rock band The Turtles, passed away on Friday, September 5, at the age of 78. He died in Nashville, Tennessee, following a brief and unexpected illness, as confirmed by his representatives.

Despite being diagnosed with Lewy body dementia in 2020, Volman remained musically active, continuing to perform in the “Happy Together” tours — a nostalgic concert series centered around classic rock hits. Although his longtime bandmate Howard Kaylan stepped back from touring due to health concerns, Volman stayed committed to the stage for as long as possible. He publicly disclosed his diagnosis in 2023.

Speaking candidly about his condition, Volman once shared:
“I was hit with the reality that this was going to usher in a whole new chapter in my life. I thought, ‘Whatever comes, I’ll face it head-on and go as far as I can.'”
He also expressed gratitude for the support around him, saying: “Life’s challenges come for everyone, but it’s been oddly uplifting to be on this side of it and still feel good. I have my friends. I’m still here. And I want people to connect with me.”

Born on April 19, 1947, in Los Angeles, Volman showed a passion for music early on. While attending Westchester High School, he met classmate Howard Kaylan and joined his band, The Crossfires. The duo would go on to co-found The Turtles after graduating in 1965, alongside Al Nichol (lead guitar), Jim Tucker (rhythm guitar), Chuck Portz (bass), and Don Murray (drums).

The Turtles quickly rose to fame with chart-topping singles like “Happy Together,” “It Ain’t Me Babe,” “You Baby,” “She’d Rather Be with Me,” and “Elenore.” Their upbeat harmonies and infectious melodies defined a generation of pop-rock.

After the group disbanded in 1970, Volman and Kaylan rebranded themselves as the duo Flo & Eddie. Their post-Turtles careers were anything but quiet. They toured with Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention, lent their distinctive backing vocals to artists such as T. Rex and Bruce Springsteen, and contributed to children’s television projects including Strawberry Shortcake. Known for their sharp humor and creative range, Flo & Eddie carved out a unique space in rock history.

In 2023, Volman released his memoir Happy Forever, reflecting on his time in the spotlight, wild moments with music legends like John Lennon and Jimi Hendrix, and the enduring spirit of his musical journey.

Later in life, Volman returned to academics, earning both bachelor’s and master’s degrees in screenwriting from Loyola Marymount University. He went on to share his industry experience as a professor of music business, most notably at Belmont University in Nashville.

Mark Volman is survived by his longtime partner Emily Volman, his former wife Pat Volman, their daughters Hallie Volman and Sarina Miller, and his brother Phil Volman.

The post RIP: Mark Volman, Turtles first appeared on Project Backstage.

Brace yourselves, Kansas City—Travis and Jason Kelce have decided to grace the commoners with a free (yes, free) tailgate extravaganza before the Chiefs face off against the Eagles in their 2025 home opener. Apparently, turning an ordinary football morning into a full-blown music-fueled block party is now just something the Kelce brothers casually do in their spare time.

On September 14 at 11 a.m., KC Live will morph into a five-hour ADHD wonderland of music, games, giveaways, and an almost uncomfortable amount of fan interaction. Because nothing says “pregame excitement” like watching grown adults fight toddlers in a cornhole tournament while a DJ plays “Sandstorm” for the seventh time.

Jason, clearly in his motivational speaker era, declared on their New Heights podcast: “We want you to have a kick-ass time.” Translation: Bring sunscreen, stretch your ACLs, and prepare to act like it’s your birthday even if it’s not.

It’s first-come, first-served, which means you should probably get there at dawn and be prepared to fight a guy in a Mahomes wig for a free T-shirt. Big screens will stream NFL coverage so you don’t miss any actual football while you’re busy trying to win a plastic foam finger in a dance-off judged by a 10-year-old.

In short: Power & Light District, 11AM, Sept 14—come for the chaos, stay because traffic will trap you there.

The post Tailgate of the Century (™ Probably) first appeared on Project Backstage.

In today’s thrilling episode of How Many Mergers Does It Take to Kill the Word “Independent”, Arrival Artists and ATC Live have decided that two boutique agencies are simply too small to contain their collective ambitions. So they did what all true rebels do: merged into a corporate Voltron called ROAM, instantly becoming the largest “independent” booking agency in the world.

Yes, because nothing screams punk spirit like scaling up, consolidating power, and announcing your merger with all the subtlety of a Tesla stock split.

What is ROAM?

According to their press release—crafted, no doubt, on artisanal hemp paper—ROAM is here to “redefine independence on a global scale.” Which sounds amazing until you realize that’s exactly how Pepsi described its new kombucha line last year. The new agency brings together a roster of artists so carefully curated that Pitchfork wept and called it a “paradigm shift,” probably while playing a Phoebe Bridgers B-side.

Now artists will be able to “roam freely” (get it?) across markets, borders, and genres, all under one beautiful, vaguely cult-sounding brand name. Somewhere, a marketing intern is high-fiving themselves so hard they’ve dislocated a shoulder.

Why This Merger Makes Total Sense If You Squint

Let’s be honest: in the world of live music, being “independent” used to mean you booked bar shows by email and paid your artists in drink tickets. Now, it means you’re a multi-continent entity with a legal team, a mission statement, and probably a rooftop kombucha tap.

To quote no one important: “If you’re gonna be indie, at least be indie with millions of dollars and a logo that looks good on merch.”

Who Wins?

• Artists – who now have access to even more curated vibes and 36-person strategy teams to tell them they’re “authentic.”
• Agents – who get to keep their jobs while pretending nothing has changed except the size of their email signature.
• Us – because what’s better than another mega-agency with the aesthetic of a Patagonia pop-up and the organizational structure of the UN?

Who Loses?

• Literally no one, unless you enjoy the raw chaos of trying to find a booking agent on your own. But sure, let’s keep calling this the punk era.

So raise a reusable cup to ROAM: the indie powerhouse we didn’t see coming, but should’ve expected, because this is capitalism and we can’t have nice things without someone turning them into a brand.

Let me know when they launch a podcast. I’d like to not subscribe.

The post What is ROAM? first appeared on Project Backstage.

Congratulations, folks—somewhere between your last honky‑tonk existential crisis and a mariachi cover of Friends’ “Smelly Cat,” a new album dropped. Zach Top has finally decided none of us are missing anything modern—so he gifted us 15 tracks of strictly old-school country, like a mixtape your cowboy uncle makes when he swears he’s giving you a “fresh sound” but ends up playing George Strait Greatest Hits backward.

What to expect (and endure):

• No surprises, ever. This is not an “inspired divergence” or “artistic evolution.” No, sir. It’s “good, clean country fun”—as original as your grandpa’s fishing stories—but hey, tight arrangements and comedic lyrics still get you… somewhere.
• Summer vibes until you forget what season you’re in. The single “Good Times & Tan Lines” is your guaranteed beachfront anthem, unless you’re deathly allergic to Jimmy Buffett-minute twang.
• Emotional depth, but only on loan. Tracks like “South of Sanity” and “Livin’ a Lie” offer a few winks of introspection—like when your barista accidentally gives your espresso a perfect crème heart. Heart‑tugging, but it’s just enough to distract you from the overall sameness.

Sounds like… Alan Jackson, Randy Travis, and every ’90s hat act you forget until someone makes a “senior country revival” playlist. It’s like he attended the “Authentic Country Nostalgia Academy,” graduated with distinction, and swore an oath to never leave the campus.

Highlights (if you can call them that):

• “Guitar”: Opens the album reminding you that this will be a rodeo of musical clichés—with bluegrass pretension and pedal steel bravado.
• “South of Sanity”: Slightly better, darker, and actually acting like it’s got something to say—about balancing fame and heartbreak. A rare flicker of substance before we fall back into lemonade-sweet singalongs.

Overall vibe: It’s the smooth, radio‑friendly, rewind‑precise country you didn’t know you were craving—or already overdid by the second album from his 2024 debut Cold Beer & Country Music. In fact, why fix it when you can merrily cruise on a flat tire of repetition?

Final verdict (but make it with a wink):
Ain’t In It For My Health? Nah, more like “Ain’t in It for Our Attention Spans.” It’s a meticulously crafted 50-minute drive down Memory Lane, stopping only to refill with clichés, beach ball metaphors, and just a splash of real emotion. Soft, polished, and nostalgically neutral—8 out of 10, folks. Pleasant company for when you’ve run out of other distractions and Americana proves irresistibly comfy.

If you’re wild for neat storytelling and zero surprises, this will be your jam. If you’ve been secretly longing for country music to evolve, well… keep waiting.

The post Zach Top – Ain’t In It For My Health. The P:B Take. first appeared on Project Backstage.

WORLDWIDE, IN A DARK ROOM SOMEWHERE— My Chemical Romance fans, never ones to take subtlety lightly, have once again descended into an internet-fueled frenzy of half-baked numerology, fictional languages, and wild calendar math — all in the name of convincing themselves that new music is coming. And maybe it is. Or maybe Gerard Way is just having the time of his life messing with them.

Currently on their nostalgia-fueled ‘Long Live The Black Parade’ tour (because apparently 20 years of sadness deserves a stadium celebration), the band has graciously provided fans with exactly the amount of information needed to spiral into full conspiracy mode: almost none. Enter the prop time clock, a delightful bit of faux-factory cosplay that each member of MCR uses to “clock in” as part of their pretend emo shift work. Because when you’re in The Black Parade, every day is a double shift at Sadness Depot.

Now, eagle-eyed fans — the same ones who can read ancient runes and spot Gerard Way’s cheekbone twitch from space — noticed that at the August 29 Chicago show, the clock was set to 12:12. Naturally, this has led to the conclusion that new music will arrive on December 12, because what else could 12:12 possibly mean? Certainly not 12:12, the time. Don’t be ridiculous.

But wait, there’s more. At another show, Gerard took a theatrical swig from a giant hip flask covered in Keposhka, a completely made-up language invented for the tour because why not throw cryptography into the mix? Fans, who apparently had nothing better to do (neither do I, let’s be honest), decoded the script to find: “MCR. G. Way. 101386.” Cue immediate panic. “Is it a code? A date? A locker combination? A cry for help?”

Since Gerard was born in 1977 (a fact already etched into countless Tumblr bios), fans discarded that obvious path and instead deduced that October 13, 1986, which falls on the same days of the week as 2025, MUST be the drop date. Because when in doubt, consult an ’80s wall calendar and let chaos lead.

To be fair, even the fans aren’t sure if their math holds up, but the guessing game is half the brand at this point. After all, actual albums are fleeting, but elaborate emo riddles are forever.

In the meantime, the band has done what all good teasing overlords do: announced two London Wembley Stadium dates for July 10 and 11 next year, because nothing says “revolutionary goth outsiders” like performing next to where Ed Sheeran plays.

Gerard Way hinted at this with a cryptic game show-themed teaser, because nothing screams raw, tortured artistry like the aesthetic of a 1970s cable access quiz show. Tickets sold out in seconds, prompting thousands of emotionally stunted adults to tweet through their ticketmaster trauma in a mass online therapy session.

The current tour has seen the band perform their 2006 masterpiece “The Black Parade” in full, as if to say, “Yes, we still know you only care about this album.” They’ve sprinkled in a few rare tracks, tossed out a new unreleased song called “War Beneath the Rain” (how cheerful!), and even did a surprise duet with Billy Corgan, because if you’re gonna throw back to 2006, you may as well go full Hot Topic Voltron.

Also on tour with them: a genre buffet that reads like someone let their Spotify algorithm pick names out of a haunted hat — Alice Cooper, Garbage, Death Cab For Cutie, 100 Gecs, and Evanescence, because nothing says unity like mixing emo legends with hyperpop chaos and mall goth royalty.

If that’s not enough nostalgia to dissolve your eyeliner, the band also released a deluxe reissue of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, because why not continue re-releasing sadness in high definition?

So will new music drop on October 13? Or December 12? Or never?
Honestly, probably whenever Gerard Way wakes up and remembers he’s in a band again.

Until then, fans will be here, pouring over setlists like they’re ancient prophecy scrolls, and screaming “it’s happening” into the void every time someone in the band blinks twice.

We wish them luck on their quest for meaning. And possibly a hobby.

The post My Chemical Romance – New Music Soon? first appeared on Project Backstage.

LONDON, UGH— In news that has shocked absolutely no one who’s been decoding cryptic LLC filings like they’re ancient scrolls, Radiohead has announced a thrillingly lukewarm return to stages across Europe. Yes, the kings of sonic existential dread are back—not because they have to, but because they felt like it. A noble cause, truly.

The band will be performing 20 whole shows across five European cities—Madrid, Bologna, London, Copenhagen, and Berlin—because apparently playing in more than five cities would’ve been emotionally irresponsible. Each city gets four shows, which we’re guessing is the minimum number required to fully unpack the metaphysical implications of being alive in 2025.

In a tender message to fans, drummer Philip Selway wrote something that can only be described as a post-rock haiku:

“Last year, we got together to rehearse, just for the hell of it.”
Yes. Radiohead casually reunited after seven years of sonic silence “just for the hell of it,” like most people do after a near-decade of brooding and scoring Oscar-nominated films.

Selway added that they “reconnected with a musical identity” lodged “deep inside all five of us”—which either means they rediscovered their inner Radiohead or accidentally summoned an eldritch horror that only responds to the Kid A B-sides.

Fans have been cracking the Da Vinci Code of band gossip since Radiohead registered a suspiciously named company, RHEUK25 LLP, which definitely doesn’t stand for Radiohead Europe UK 2025 unless you use logic or words. Then came the charity auction ticket to “a Radiohead concert of your choice,” which somehow wasn’t enough confirmation for people who require Thom Yorke to descend from the heavens with a megaphone and a legal affidavit.

September kicked off with mysterious flyers appearing in major cities, which is how Radiohead always announces things because they’re allergic to press releases that don’t feel like ARGs.

Still, this “surprise” reunion has been foreshadowed for months, ever since bassist Colin Greenwood let it slip that the band had been rehearsing. Yorke later confirmed they were reuniting, but with the whimsical tone of a man telling you he’s opening a kombucha bar in the woods:

“I think we’ve earned the right to do what makes sense to us.”
Translation: We’ll do what we want, when we want, and you’ll still cry at Pyramid Song, you insatiable little fan goblins.

This marks the band’s first live activity since their 2018 tour, after which they all scattered to their own deeply sophisticated, borderline intimidating side projects. Yorke made moody synth music for people who dream in grayscale, Jonny Greenwood composed award-bait film scores using instruments last seen in 17th-century cathedrals, and Selway released his third solo album that your cousin who owns exactly one pair of leather shoes probably loves.

As a final gift before the tour, Radiohead announced the release of a live album based on 2003’s “Hail to the Thief,” timed perfectly for Halloween, because apparently that album is now seasonal content. Yorke called it “cathartic” and was “shocked” by the energy of their old performances—presumably because no one expects Radiohead to sound like they’re awake.

Anyway, you’ve got 20 chances to buy a ticket, spend the entire show spiraling into your own emotional underworld, and maybe cry next to a Danish stranger. So dust off your anxiety, put on your best sad-person cardigan, and prepare to feel all your feelings at once—again.

The post Radiohead Ends Seven Year Hiatus first appeared on Project Backstage.