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Live8 Report
September, 2005

Article - Tracks Magazine

Feb/Mar 2005

Tribute
Nov 19, 2004

Article - Fort Collins Sentinel
Oct. 23, 2004

Review - Beat
Sept. 18, 2004

Article - Downbeat
August 2004

Review - NME
July 2004

Review - The Guardian
June 19, 2002

Article - Rolling Stone
June 2002

Review - Magnet
March 2002

Review - Poseur
March 2002

Article - Puma Beat

Oct. 16, 2000

Review - NME
November 1999

Pente Review
by Vince Moseley
NME, July 2004

You could hear the sniggering throughout the Western world, from every Tower megastore to dusty record shop ineffectively run by an ineffectively-shaven manboy in his early 30s. Sniggering similar to the kind you emitted the first time Mum put on "Octopus' Garden." Sniggering similar to the kind you nearly choked upon when Genesis so graciously allowed their balding background troll to sing lead. Sniggering like the automatic response you have to the King of Painful Pomposity, Sting. Sniggering that clearly states: rhythm section please stick to your duties and leave the poor, manhandled melodies alone.

That means, you, Charlie Pace.

You could certainly imagine the sniggering, were you to actually locate Pente, the debut solo EP from nearly-forgettable DriveSHAFT's very forgettable bassist. Lucky I should be donated a copy as a perk of my reviewing duties, thereby rendering me capable of informing you all (everybody!) about this abuse of plastic. Because now I will have saved you from wasting your hard-earned lunch money. Which you would not have wasted anyway. Because I'm not physically there to sing DriveSHAFT's one bloody song to you, am I? (Which would require me to recall it myself.)

A man whose vocals are barely remembered as more than a squeak of a chorus in a flavor-of-the-nanosecond hit song probably would best leave well enough alone after the band's apparent demise. You know, find a nice steady gig: playing upright bass at the local jazz lounge every Wednesday and Thursday night, tutoring schoolkids who want to be the next Geddy Lee, replacing "are you ready to rock?" with the more pertinent and universal "would you like to supersize that?"

That's right, DriveSHAFT can't carry you anymore, sweetheart. Get out now. Settle down. Then someday Old Man Pace can regale the neighbourhood youth with stories of rock and roll legend---like the time you dropped your pick onstage when a perky blonde flashed you in Helsinki.

Or else, do pass me by.

At least Ringo could hit 50 percent of his notes. Sorry, Charlie. Look on the bright side: if you don't ever find that dragon, maybe VH-1 will call you up in a few years and plunk you down in a posh house with Carrot Top and Gerardo. But please do not wrangle the latter into contributing to a funkified redoing of "Deus Ex Machina." The gods are nearly all sniggered out.