The following request would probably be more appropriate — and potentially more effective — on Twitter, but it’s a cause too near and dear to my heart to relegate to the trenches of social media discourse.
The following request would probably be more appropriate — and potentially more effective — on Twitter, but it’s a cause too near and dear to my heart to relegate to the trenches of social media discourse.
Me and My Girl, the final production of this Encores! season, is very…Encores!
After listening to the first two songs of Ski Mask the Slump God’s BEWARE THE BOOK OF ELI, I quickly wrote it off with this snide derision:
First and foremost, an album must be cohesive.
If you have an aversion to reading the word shit, tread no further here.
With Hannah, Charlotte Rampling further cements herself as the Queen of wordlessly-anguished loneliness.
If A Quiet Place was a play, I would say it’s in desperate need of a dramaturg to devise richer dramatic manifestations of the aural concept.
I got around to only two albums this week, one great and one…not so great:
I concluded my recent post about expanding our conception of artistic originality by quoting, gulp, Kanye West.
Back in 2016, there was a concert performance of Ragtime inside the Registry Room on Ellis Island.