Monday, August 26 2002
It’s been 10 years since Heather Myles released her debut album on Hightone records. The album, Just Like Old Times, has a few potential singles
Thursday, August 22 2002
A real problem with compilations is the likelihood of them containing, if they are any good, tunes you already have at least once. Less of
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus—and in this world of unlikely longshots, some people do by and large win big lottery jackpots. It’
It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since Lush’s final album, Lovelife. After bursting onto the scene in the early 1990s
I am hereby requesting a ticket for a one-way flight to Japan - anywhere in Japan would do. After listening to Puffy AmiYumi’s ‘An
It’s rare that you hear a band going out on the top of its game rather than grasping at lost musical straws as it
Masculinity, integrity, brutality: Walter Hill's usual themes.
Viktor sees his most attractive, resourceful, and prolific self in Simone.
'My job sucks,' says Joe (Matthew Perry) at the beginning of Reginald Hudlin's peculiar romantic comedy.
Neatly, ominously, the film composes a bleak vision of Sy's consumption of and by his culture.
I'm Going Home not only retains its heart, but expands it until the film's emotional power is almost too much to handle.
The apotheosis of a very good band, Sam Jones' I Am Trying to Break Your Heart begs the question of whether merely very good bands deserve to be deified.
Harvard Man's refusal to pass judgment on characters' drug use is troubling.
The Adventures of Pluto Nash is a whole lot of nada.
Wednesday, August 21 2002
Many words and phrases have been used to describe the artist currently known as Tricky (A.K.A. Adrian Thawes). Among those terms are pioneer,
Tegan and Sara Quin’s debut album from 2000, This Business of Art, wasn’t overly spectacular, but it was pleasant enough to warrant attention from
When music editors sit down with take-out Thai, ephedrine, and their spent youth at the end of this year and they are scratching their nicotine
Why does it sometimes seem that putting musicians in a room full of guitars and drums inevitably brings out their dark, brooding instincts while a
Just the word “barbecue” flares out like a “cultural flashpoint”, enticing some devotees to lick their mental chops and recall that one special place smoking
Calvin Johnson has one of the more distinct singing voices you’ll hear, unbelievably deep yet sonorous. It betrays his presence with the first breath;