One of the best things happening in rock 'n' roll these days is this guy from Brattleboro, Vermont, who goes by the name King Tuff. His previous album, Was Dead
, is awash in fuzzed-out guitar shredding, lyrics about cool stuff (cars, dancing, eccentric jewelry), and sunshiny stoner vibes. He has a self-titled album coming out late next month on Sub Pop that's more of the same, but somehow even better. Lately I've been putting it on whenever a joyless indie-rock record or a new configuration of Jason Mraz facial hair makes me wonder what the point is of anyone making guitar-based music anymore. It's tough to worry about rock 'n' roll dying when it sounds this good.