There is a heart-breaking sort of irony involved in consuming quickly a candy whose name implies salvation. Life Savers can’t save themselves, but they can save you.
Amidst all the attempts to describe, compare, and pigeonhole the work of Merrill Garbus it is easy to lose sight of the fact that tUnE-yArDs is one of the most unique musical projects to emerge in recent memory.
Similar to the way a medium organizes its message, the manner in which a package of Starburst is organized has profound effects on how it is experienced, and it is only by altering the formula that those effects become apparent.
As a director, Michael Bay is a man overwhelmingly concerned with making loud, violent, and overt filmic statements. Which is why he horrifies me.
Like alcohol, coffee straddles the line between luxury and crutch, crossing briefly into the realms of fetish and political statement. What kind of coffee you drink – and how you drink it – says as much about you as what kind of car you drive.
Human beings, almost as a rule, secretly enjoy complaining about their jobs. Though voluntary and oftentimes rewarding, working falls under that unfortunate subset of obligations that, while necessary, rarely ceases to make us miserable. And that, I think, is exactly why we do it.
Though Chikita Violenta is a band from Mexico and Tre3s is an album recorded in Canada, there is very little on this release that feels particularly foreign.
To create Shugo Tokumaru, you must envision a world stripped of its pessimism.
The Way Out is an album about escape through unconventional means.
Is “The King is Dead” a transparent reference to Elvis or a not-so-subtle admission that the Decemberists are putting to bed their unrelenting lust for British sea shanties?
Possibly the best thing about Marnie Stern’s third outing is the merciful simplify of the album’s title.
Similar to Nobunny’s debut LP, 2008’s Love Visions, First Blood is split between the veritably pop and the authentically punk.
The most important thing to understand about The Suburbs is that it’s Arcade Fire’s least great album. And it’s all our fault.
Similar to the proverbial Sexy Pizza Delivery Sex Romp, the popular fantasy of the plummeting elevator is both rare and improbable.
Perhaps, the most apt and potentially trite criticism that can be made about Best Coast’s debut LP is that it’s too simple.
The acquisition method known as gleaning possesses roots as far back as the writing of Deuteronomy and Leviticus. Penny-pinching farmers, God decreed, must resist the urge to harvest the entirety of their fields.
The following is how I understand sweating, and heat, and what happens when you are exposed to a little too much of both. This is a concise history of sweating.
“Well, move the damn bus then.”
The typical, maligned vision of the indie music fan revolves around not their cultivated taste, but the seemingly-unavoidable musical elitism that that cultivated taste induces. They know too damn much.
Even prior to continuous string of awful financial downturns that have defined our past few years, many of us already knew what was up: Things were about to get expensive. I saw it in the candy.
I don’t reckon I ever consciously had that One Great Fear, but I know for certain that, whatever it was, its status has of late been usurped by bedbugs, the existence of which fills me with dread beyond dread.
Animal Control doesn’t handle cats. This is what I learned first as I stood, phone to ear, staring the orange mass of grime and fur moaning under a white Cadillac.
My name is Ricardo. I am a door hoverer.
When boys make the transition into men, they do so with a subtle blend of confusion, pain, and anticipation. Manhood means great things. It means jobs and handshakes and lawnmowers, suits and shoe polish. But it also means aches and emissions, cracks of voice and spurts of height.
There are a lot of scary words thrown around in emergency rooms – “surgery”, “dead”, “pregnant”, etc – but insurance is probably the most horrifying.
Unemployment sucks. It’s always sucked: Bereft of cash and inundated with spare time, the life of the unemployed can be said to resemble an almost Biblical purgatory.
College was a dream. This is perhaps the only ounce of certainty gleaned since graduating from higher education. Where college was loose and and free and slightly heavenly, Real Life so far seems entirely the opposite.
The Black Friday shopper is a hero.
It’s hard for most people to travel though life without knocking shoulders at least once with Henry David Thoreau. Somehow, and mostly via his oft-celebrated Walden, Thoreau has managed to dip his finger in every topic remotely related to A Well Lived Life.
For the broke and insolvent, few events are more dangerous than another’s birthday.
At a time when what you buy is equated with who you are, few things are more personally enlightening than a trip to the store.
If the existence of New Year’s resolutions prove anything, it’s that we are naturally optimistic.
I had initially intended this post to be a brief reaction piece to what I thought was a recent article by Wired’s Tony Long. Turns out the article is now over five years old and not entirely worth revisiting again – if only because it lacks focus and isn’t entirely coherent. I’ll refer to it in brief. Instead, I [...]
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oACt9R9z37U] A number of emotions took hold of me as I watched (and re-watched) the various demonstrations of Microsoft’s new Project Natal “controller.” Shock gave way to amazement, amazement, to disbelief, disbelief to skepticism. Eventually, that skepticism gave way to an acute sense of cynicism: Project Natal couldn’t possibly work. It just couldn’t. And yet, [...]