Songs about siblings

Motivated by a sense of territorial encroachment and a wincing from well-meant semantic slipperiness, I disliked the casual I-love-you-like-a-brother-man I heard since high school. It’s as if men can’t imagine a non-sexual intimacy with another man without thinking in familial terms. Also: it dilutes the strength of familial terms. A brother is a brother, a

Ranking #4 singles, UK edition: 1998-1999

The former Sporty Spice Melanie C hires Marius de Vries to slather Massive Attack guitars over her solo debut, for which she shrieks as if she were Poly Styrene. A lost-forever hit (I think) like Cleopatra’s cryogenic take on “I Want You Back.” Culture Club’s first UK top ten since 1986 — more lover’s rock.

Ranking #7 singles, UK edition: 1995-1996

To read Select and Q magazines in the mid ’90s was to accept Paul Weller as a Kindred Spirit of Blokeishness blessing Britpop, particularly the laddish pathology of Oasis and to a lesser extent Blur.

He’s got the suit, we’ve got the time, let’s make lots of money: ‘The Batman’

Among actors who have donned a nipple-giddy iteration of the iconic suit, Robert Pattinson ranks with Michael Keaton and Val Kilmer as the Batman with a mouth as pillowy as sushi-ready bluefish tuna. I should’ve written The Batman, as the latest attempt to rewrite thirty years of film history insists we call the most sullen

Ranking #5 singles, UK edition: 2000-2001

Few songs as mild and mildly titled as “Babylon” provoke such a homicidal reaction from yours truly. Listening to David Gray’s signature hit is like confronting malevolent arugula. I hear what he wants to do with his strummy Van Morrison-meets-Dave-Matthews approach to acoustic hoochie-coochie, and I’d rather any Death Row artist for sensitivity. To blame

On the uselessness of political media, part #7682

Walking and eating through my first New Orleans trip last weekend, I kept matters low-key on the blog side. I meant what I said to readers in January about my stepping back; not every shiver in the consciousness of the world requires an HTV answer. But between hurried changes of clothes in my hotel room

Ranking #2 singles, UK edition: 1999

Chatty, narcissistic, and vulgar, “My Name Is” is one of those singles which will never date; if Eminem never released a followup, we’d remember it as a brilliant one- or two-off like “Roxanne, Roxanne.” Madonna also triumphed with the casual mastery of her Austin Powers sequel track, a shameless synthesis of ’60s tropes that rattled

Why the attacks on Disney matter

To defend a corporation expert at placing cute mouse ears on nefarious practices like Disney does puts me in a grotesque position, especially since Disney has bought the Florida legislature on both sides for five decades, which means for a while it endorsed the Don’t Say Gay Bill until its immaculately groomed public image took

Ranking #3 singles, UK edition: 1999-2000

At the dawn of the most hedonistic period to date in my young gay life, I lived in a city where Eurodance hits like ATB’s “Don’t Stop” and Vengaboys’ “We Like to Party,” and, most repulsive, Danude’s “Sandstorm,” along with Alice Deejay’s “Better Off Alone” and Sonique’s “It Feels So Good” were as ubiquitous as

Ranking #8, UK singles: 1969-1971

For maximum camp value, Noel’s father Rex Harrison, keeping Richard Harris and “MacArthur Park” in sight, should have seized “The Windmills of Your Mind,” which exists because Dusty Springfield performed CPR on it and it’s still one of her dowdiest performances, beloved by people who think she died in 1966.

Convoluted spy thriller ‘All the Old Knives’ can’t whip up any interest

Pining for the days of Tom Clancy and John Le Carré movie adaptations in which cynical good-hearted spooks knew who their enemies were, All the Old Knives fails to move as a thriller or an excuse to give old pros the chance to ham it up. A large part of the problem is the casting

Ranking #11 singles, UK edition: 1995-96

CJ Bolland, Wildchild, and 1300 Drums meant nothing to me before this rundown, but listening to them in the last twenty-four hours inspired mourning for what America didn’t get in top 15 dance tracks during the High Clinton era. Shit, I would’ve loved saturation play for Saint Etienne’s Europop stick-like-glue banger if it meant Deep