Tuesday, August 27 2002
The Action were a George Martin-produced soul-pop band in mid-‘60s England, musical brothers of the early Who, The Small Faces, and the Zombies. Despite
Monday, August 26 2002
If there’s anyone deserving a birthday extravaganza with lots of presents, it’s Johnny Cash, whose 70th birthday has been garnering serious—and well
Is there a worse name for a sub-genre of music than “nu jazz”? The answer, it turns out, is yes—now some folks have taken
“I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.”—Frederich Nietzsche, from Thus
The songs of Palomar are beyond peppy, blasting into full-blown exuberance. An infectious energy runs through all the NYC band’s material, fueled by who-knows-what
The Naysayer, as a band, is mostly a vehicle for the talents of Texas singer/songwriter Anna Padgett. However, the fact that its other members
Even the greenest of instrumental amateurs knows that which separates a good jazz musician from the rest of the pack is an intimate understanding of
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.