At their best, The Weeks crank jittery, bristling, two-guitar onslaughts, paced at punk speed, but laced with southern blues guitar… at their worst, they sound a lot like the Counting Crows.
They Don't Make 'em Like 'La La Land', Anymore
Hans Christian Andersen Would Be Delighted With Sanna Annukka's Illustrations
Sun Ra: Astro Black, Cosmic Dark
At Long Last 'Luna', or, a Boy's Worst Friend Is His Mother
Teddy Wayne Gives Readers a Disturbing Glimpse Into the Predatory Side of a Social Outcast
Rage Plus Time Equals Prophecy: 'I Am Not Your Negro'
Was George Carlin Right About Everything?
'Scurvy': Chronicling the Etiology of an Affliction
"Virginia manages to have an exposition dump without wordy exposition.