If I assume that great cities belong first of all to the young and the old, especially to college age students and the retired old who love to walk, why not New York in its thrilling size and modern sheen and in easy reach by car, train or bus from my New England town?
The tension between volatility and vulnerability runs throughout the album.. It is the sound of a man sweating out his demons and trying to contain, within a yogic frame of mind, the urge to throw rocks at cars. It is the sound of the lion endeavoring not to eat the lamb, and occasionally failing in that endeavor. It is the most thrilling release of the year so far.
Melrose Place is constantly bringing us there. It’s riveting and titillating magic. Euripides would have loved it. It’s absurdist literature for fans of Nip / Tuck and Desperate Housewives. It’s dark humor with a lurid a cover of glam and dazzling dynamics.
What makes A Serious Man so much more despairing than the Coens’ No Country For Old Men is that its mortal coil is wound tighter. Where No Country had the luxury of retirement, of throwing in the towel by choice, our serious man can only hope things end before they get worse…
The new Xiu Xiu music video “Dear God, I Hate Myself” is kind of like the art-school version of David Letterman’s extramarital confession. Or Lady Gaga for real monsters… It unveils what the mainstream constantly tries to veil: vulnerability, imperfection, and the (often) filthy grit of reality.
The question of who Dupre is and how she wound up a prostitute does not, in the end, seem difficult to answer: She was a resourceful babe who wanted money and was capable of making cruddy decisions. This describes a lot of people.
[White] says that he had had sex with a couple of hundred people before he was 16…[T]here was only one brief period, that between 1960 with the introduction of the birth control pill, and 1981, with the advent of a disease not yet named AIDS, when people were completely free to have sex where and with whom they chose.
“Hi, I’m Chilly Gonzales. If you don’t know me, I’m a Grammy-nominated producer. I hold the Guinness world record for longest continuous piano concert at 27 hours. I’ve got a lot of famous friends.” He pauses for effect, then, “In France, where I live, they call me un génie musicale.”
Douglas Wolk explores the psychology of Spider-Man and introduces Turn Off the Dark, the “circus rock ‘n’ roll drama, whose Broadway premiere has now been pushed back to the fall.
Due to the chaotic nature of the world during the turn of the twentieth century, literature (and culture more generally) responded to and actually instigated a pervasive sense of global revolution.
The problem is not with how we treat the Earth. It’s with how we treat ourselves. We work 40, 50, 60, 70 hours a week. And thanks to microcomputing, we work all the time. All the time. There is no leisure, there is no pleasure.
A decade after 69 Love Songs, the Magnetic Fields are still relying on formal stunts. This time, they’ve made an acoustic “folk” record–the joke being that Realism couldn’t be any less “realistic.”
July 1776 folds into February 2008: Jefferson and Obama merge. The visual motifs of McGiney revitalize the verse of Whitman. The gold rush pioneer morphs into the post-recession innovator or agent of change.
Roman à clef doesn’t make quite as much sense as a form now that we have Gawker and Perez Hilton to provide us with the real names and humiliations of anyone involved in a scandal.
When the zombie first appeared on film in the 1930s, audiences became hooked on what they saw. Often depicted with crazed, transfixed, and bloodshot eyes, an insatiable hunger for human flesh and above all, a reckless disregard for human life, these terrifying creatures were slow-moving pack travelers.
Listen, I am attracted to Obama just as I’m attracted to the fine produce of Whole Foods. But I am not so insane as to believe that voting for that guy or shopping at some goofy supermarket changes anything.
Inglorious Bastereds is a fuck you to the totalitarian cinema of any sort.
This is an album of strange pain. The cover artwork says so itself, just gaze into it: a blurry image of a naked woman tied up on a bed.
Adolescence is so beautiful, even if awkward and insane — and perhaps precisely because of that.