Thursday 2013-02-28, 12:00am
Now that Michael Phelps has exited the sport, perhaps elite competitive swimming will finally get a new, female superstar. But does it deserve one?
Now that Michael Phelps has exited the sport, perhaps elite competitive swimming will finally get a new, female superstar. But does it deserve one?
Guitarist Charlotte Hatherley steps into the future with Sylver Tongue.
id you miss out on the biggest music festivals of the season? Don’t fret—there are still plenty of ways to get involved in the music scene this spring. The following events are available for sponsorship—and while they may not be Lollapalooza, but which are cheap!
Few shows are so recklessly obvious about their goal of wish fulfillment as to actually name the fictional setting Paradise. Bunheads, however, is not like most of American television’s offerings.
An interview with Community writer Maggie Bandur.
The idea of ditching the episodic-TV concept and enterprise and delivering a full, brand-new season all at once is a concept inevitable enough that Netflix has undertaken it as its grand experiment of 2013.
I’m always loath to read stories that have the phrase “a new study” in their first sentence, but those news items pointing to the Halifax Insurance Digital Home Index this week gave me some pause, if only because I thought that its estimate of the current generation of kids spending 25 percent of their lives in front of some sort of screen was pretty low.
It takes both courage and foolishness to meet someone you’ve only ever known as a voice or a screen name, to walk up to someone who just drove 500 miles and kiss him on the lips in a restaurant parking lot while the friends you brought for safety watch. But what takes even more chutzpah is meeting someone from the internet while having a nagging feeling that he or she is not quite telling the truth—which is almost always the case on the MTV series Catfish.
On Heartthrob, the seventh album by the Canadian twins Tegan And Sara, the duo leaps from the indiepop world and makes straight-up crystalline pop music about heartbreak. Maura Johnston, Brad Nelson, and Chris Randle discuss the boldness and effectiveness of this aesthetic move. Brad Nelson: Maybe we should explain at the outset why we want—need—three […]
The biggest mistake The Smiths ever made wasn’t breaking up; given how much the foursome came to loathe each other, that was inevitable. It was breaking up in 1987, because John Hughes almost made them rock gods
Before Mikey Likes was making music-inspired ice cream from scratch, the New York native was just like pretty much every other kid growing up on the Lower East Side of Money-Makin’ Manhattan.
In keeping with matters Lenten and Valentine’s-related, this issue focuses on both the sugary and the acerbic.
What is Rick Moody’s problem with Taylor Swift?
I, who so often eschewed the phone, am now glad to lean into those long, meandering conversations that it can inspire, those sorts of chats that would not be punctuated by bathroom breaks or impromptu meetings with managers and where a lip-twisting grin and hastily typed “lol” wouldn’t suffice as an expression of amusement.
If America had its own Marianne, she would be a lot like megaselling Taylor Swift. She becomes literally wide-eyed when someone pays her a compliment; her family owned a Shetland pony; she wrote her first hit single in math class. But is that quality becoming a liability four albums in?
After a long period of endless album teasers and slow-burn promotional campaigns, the element of surprise has come back to big-tent music in 2013—David Bowie announced an album he’d been working on in secret for two years, My Bloody Valentine released the 21-years-in-the-making followup to Loveless, and Justin Timberlake returned to pop.
Thirty years ago, the dawning of a new decade lent a very distinct excitement—a hope, even a demand—for art that could mark and affirm the validity of the New. This yearning is necessarily twinned with vocal repudiation of the Old, and repeated itself at the end of the 1980s. Had Kurt Cobain survived, I expect the same process would have felled Nirvana at the turn of this century. Here, and truly in every measurable aspect, My Bloody Valentine has cheated fate.
Last weekend I realized that my Friendster profile had gone away. The site started in 2002 and accrued millions of users pretty instantly; I joined up pretty early, although it seems like I was first active on the site more recently than 11 years ago. But time turns to taffy on the internet.