Earl Sweatshirt looks so young. His baby face bears a sparse mustache I associate with high school boys trying to prove they’ve hit puberty, and he’s swallowed by an oversize Yankees jersey. Maybe it’s just because I’m so close to the stage, and to other people he seems older than his nineteen years.
Apologies to the Queen Mary By Hal Pratt I’ve had Wolf Parade’s debut album around for three weeks now, and I still can’t decide about it. Is it an exciting new band with promise of a successful career? Is it … Read More
What a supremely difficult task it would be to make Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot a theatrical catastrophe given the rich nature of the existentialism, the slap-stick comedy, the downright absurdism. That said, what a trying undertaking it is to … Read More
Spring! And with it, the advent of this season’s crop of light, sugary pop albums designed to serve as background music as you luxuriate in the sun. At the fore of this season’s harvest are The Concretes, a Swedish octet … Read More
Is Kanye West Jesus, a genius, or just a jackass? The rapper-turned-fashion designer-turned entrepreneur has a singular talent for polarizing popular opinion, which seems incapable of finding any sort of middle ground between idolatry and loathing.
I was supposed to write a review for Norah Vincent’s new book, Self-Made Man but I decided not to for a very simple reason: Books are stupid. Despite efforts in the past ten years to make books more like movies, … Read More
I entered Alexander Hall, heart pounding, clutching a small spiral notebook and an orange ticket. The narrow, rounded hallway bordering the theater was filled with a labyrinth of lines. I frantically weaved through and approached an usher to ask her where I could wait in order to sit in orchestra seats.