At last: proof that the familiar impulse you feel upon hearing Rage Against the Machine—to strip naked, wrap yourself in an American flag, shatter the nearest window, roll around until the shards cover your tender flesh, wrap your body around a stranger, set yourselves a flame, then hurtle off a trampoline like a star-spangled porcupine bomb toward the nearest instrument of oppression—is an innate response, like sucking down air or recoiling when your hand touches a flame.
On October 30, 2002, David Letterman gave his whole show over to one guest: Warren Zevon, who had just been diagnosed with a fatal and untreatable form of lung cancer.
Why would you spend your money on a vinyl copy of U2’s Songs of Innocence? Regardless of your feelings on what I’m sure is a perfectly fine late-career U2 album, didn’t basically everyone get that record for free last year? The lunkheaded spendthrifts who stood in line to shell out for a “deluxe exclusive” version of Songs on Record Store Day and found another band’s music inside only got what was coming to them.
Spring sprang about a month ago, but it finally feels like it. My iPhone tells me that it’s going to be 75 and sunny tomorrow in New York. That’s crazy! People are going to be walking around butt-ass naked in response, and won’t that be fun to see? There’s nothing like a solid spring day to undo four bullshit months of shitty winter misery.
Two weeks ago, a happy-go-lucky troupe of ragtag recording artists (collective net worth: over $2,000,000,000) stood shoulder to shoulder on a stage and asked for your money. In return they would give you "TIDAL," a streaming music website and app that costs too much. I gave it a try. You should not.
Only a few minutes ago, the entire music industry stood on a stage in a collective display of how rich and out of touch they are. They think you are willing to pay up to double the price of other streaming music services to pay for their streaming music service, because they are crazy.
In the lyric pamphlet to Black Messiah, D'Angelo's third album after 14 years away from the spotlight, the soul-savant explains his reasoning behind its title and sudden release: "Some will jump to the conclusion that I am calling myself a Black Messiah," he begins. "For me the title is about all of us...It's about people rising up in Ferguson and in Egypt and in Occupy Wall Street and in every place where a community has had enough and decides to make change happen. It's not about celebrating one charismatic leader but celebrating thousands of them."
Fans drinking vodka sodas instead of Monster tallboys. Matching suits and mirror-encrusted guitars. A funky man who addresses adult humans as "children," like he thinks he's Prince or something. Vocoders, syncopation, silly glasses. This is the deeply strange universe presented in Nickelback's new video, and fans are not happy about it.
At about 20 seconds into the new trailer for Backstreet Boys: Show Em What You're Made Of a disembodied voice (Brian?) asks: "What do you do when you're a full-grown man in a boy band?" This is exactly the kind of question a Backstreet Boys documentary should be asking.