Worst Songs Ever: Counting Crows ft. Vanessa Carlton’s ‘Big Yellow Taxi’

Like a good single, a terrible one reveals itself with airplay and forbearance. I don’t want to hate songs; to do so would shake ever-sensitive follicles, and styling gel is expensive. I promise my readers that my list will when possible eschew obvious selections. Songs beloved by colleagues and songs to which I’m supposed to

Running and jumping in place: Pusha T, Parquet Courts, Wussy, Arctic Monkeys

Pusha T – Daytona The Paul McCartney of coke rap returns with another model of taut smarts likely to be forgotten by year’s end (I top twentied his 2015 album, apparently). Kanye’s much praised solo production (with help from Mike Dean and Andrew Dawson on more than half the album) incorporates Yes, “Twelve O’Clock Satanial,”

Worst Songs Ever: Alanis Morissette’s ‘You Learn’

Like a good single, a terrible one reveals itself with airplay and forbearance. I don’t want to hate songs; to do so would shake ever-sensitive follicles, and styling gel is expensive. I promise my readers that my list will when possible eschew obvious selections. Songs beloved by colleagues and songs to which I’m supposed to

Worst Songs Ever: Lionel Richie’s ‘Dancing on the Ceiling’

Like a good single, a terrible one reveals itself with airplay and forbearance. I don’t want to hate songs; to do so would shake ever-sensitive follicles, and styling gel is expensive. I promise my readers that my list will when possible eschew obvious selections. Songs beloved by colleagues and songs to which I’m supposed to

Claire Denis: ‘Solitude is something very special…’

The New Yorker‘s Alice Gregory interviewed Claire Denis as the French director works on High Life, herEnglish-language début starring Robert Pattinson and André Benjamin of Outkast and set in space. Among many fascinating bits are the following: After buying coffee and taking her seat, Denis began to talk about her mother, who had died, at

Singles 5/26

Suspicious of the young man because he styled his hair before he’d lived a little, I approached “Bloom” with caution. When I’m cranky it sounds wan. So rarely do we get songs about being on the receiving end of anal sex — a pretty song! — that I’ve made a couple allowances. Not giving a

The best final studio albums

Listening a couple weeks ago to The Go-Betweens’ 2005 Oceans Apart, I got to thinking about final studio albums  as opposed to albums assembled after an artist’s death. LULU wasn’t going to make it. Too many people were still alive. Cut the Crap, Tin Drum, Naked — nope. I’m not convinced by Back to Black

‘Solo: A Star Wars Story’ — the mid ’80s McCartney of Star Wars flicks

I don’t review movies in the Star Wars universe the usual way. Solo: A Star Wars Story is no exception (nor do I watch these movies in the usual way — 9:15 a.m. screening time right here, readers!). Here are things I noted in this latest entry:

Protests can work

And sometimes in the midst of death we get life: Publix is backing down in a standoff with survivors of this year’s mass shooting at a Parkland, Florida high school, saying it has suspended political contributions. The regional supermarket chain, which is based in Florida, announced its decision amid a “die-in” at several Publix stores

Worst Songs Ever: Jim Stafford’s ‘My Girl Bill’

Like a good single, a terrible one reveals itself with airplay and forbearance. I don’t want to hate songs; to do so would shake ever-sensitive follicles, and styling gel is expensive. I promise my readers that my list will when possible eschew obvious selections. Songs beloved by colleagues and songs to which I’m supposed to

‘Eight Hours Don’t Make a Day’ another example of Fassbinder’s splendor

Critics mention the plenitude of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s catalog in every appraisal because it staggers us to think he could have written, directed, and occasionally starred in more than thirty films of astonishing control, verve, and replete with ideas. His okay to poor films (Satan’s Brew and Despair are on my list; yours is different)

Worst Songs Ever: Meri Wilson’s “Telephone Man”

Like a good single, a terrible one reveals itself with airplay and forbearance. I don’t want to hate songs; to do so would shake ever-sensitive follicles, and styling gel is expensive. I promise my readers that my list will when possible eschew obvious selections. Songs beloved by colleagues and songs to which I’m supposed to