When the New York Times architecture critic Herbert Muschamp died recently from lung cancer, America lost one of its most riveting writers—one of the best critics we’ve ever had, and quite possibly among the worst.
Emptying out a storage space in Houston means judging sentimental value against what fits in the car.
Even though it wasn’t an election year, in 1985 Alex P. Keaton could have run for president—and won.
It was no Orwellian nightmare; to have nightmares you need to sleep, and you can’t sleep when you lay awake terrified about nuclear war.
Because album lists shouldn’t happen only once a year. In this installment: The New Wave was drying up and the New Romantics were taking hold. But tell that to a Cub Scout in 1983 and you’ll get a blank stare.
MTV was shaking up the airwaves, but if it was happening during an episode of Diff’rent Strokes. Ten favorite albums from the year the ‘80s really began.
Because album lists shouldn’t happen only once a year. In this installment: Iran’s taking hostages, Pat Sajak’s still on the air, and all of a sudden 1981 doesn’t feel like so long ago.
The South by Southwest Music Festival is a never-ending stream of bands, booze, and laminates that barrels through Austin, Texas, each spring. Just because you’re not going doesn’t mean you can’t review it.
Because album lists shouldn’t happen only once a year. In this installment: The dawn of a new decade saw punk rock fading away, or at least saving up to buy a synthesizer.
Because album lists shouldn’t happen only once a year. In this installment, times were good: Every album came with a poster, disco was dying, and actors weren’t Presidents.
Year-end album lists shouldn’t happen only once a year. Inaugurating a new series, Andrew Womack raids his music collection to rank his favorite albums from every year, year after year, starting with as far back as he can recollect.
The “record” industry is dead and 99-cent singles are now the rule, and yet terrific, cohesive rock LPs kept appearing every week.