I love holiday shopping. Picking out presents, crossing the names off the list, wrapping all the gifts. Every year it seems an insurmountable task. Every year it’s accomplished far too easily. And every year is more satisfying than the last. This year it seemed there might even be time
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week we look into the immortal question--what do I do with my life?--and find the obvious answer.
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week, having already had the issue of girls settled for us, we tackle boys and their puppy-dog tails.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t board the ship now.’ ‘What do you mean? I have a ticket.’ ‘Very good, sir, but I’m still afraid you’re too late. You’ll have to wait for the next one.’ ‘But it hasn’t even left yet. Come on—
I married in Texas on 5 October 2002. If I can remember that date, I’ll do alright come anniversary time. But that’s jumping too far ahead for now. It was, by all accounts, a beautiful wedding. There were speeches, there were toasts, there was even a poem. There
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week we give you a few pointers on how to embark on a three-day juice fast. Bottoms up.
My brother, easily the most knowledgeable scholar of Beatle lore I’ve ever known, introduced me to Pet Sounds long, long ago. And this under the pretense that the Beach Boys’ 1966 album was what inspired the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Paul McCartney, apparently, saw in
‘Waterloo Sunset’ is one of the best songs ever recorded by anyone ever. And of course that’s an overstatement. Nevertheless, it fizzles in as you’re scanning the radio stations, its number comes up on the jukebox, it swirls overhead in its Muzak-ified incarnation at the grocery store—
Pete: And how do you take your coffee, Agent Cooper? Cooper: Black as midnight on a moonless night. Pete: Pret-ty black. It’s an exchange from an episode of Twin Peaks, if you didn’t already guess. And it’s a pretty good descriptor of this album, too: Black
Four terms this column will not use to describe the album: ‘Joy Division,’ ‘Ian Curtis,’ ‘New Wave,’ ‘Eighties.’ One that it will: ‘one of the finest albums of the year.’ Yes, Interpol may never shirk its reputation. After all, there’s that voice. It’s a strong, booming voice singing
