IQ
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week Andrew Womack answers a reader’s question about how to prove one’s intelligence to a world that needs to know. How? With the Non-Expert’s IQ test, of course.
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week Andrew Womack answers a reader’s question about how to prove one’s intelligence to a world that needs to know. How? With the Non-Expert’s IQ test, of course.
Hello? Are you there? How are you? What? Sorry? What’s up? Excuse me? Pardon me? When? Come again? What’s going on? Where? What do you mean? What’d you say? Huh? What’s that? Who? Why? How much?
Isn’t this supposed to be techno? Er, electronica or whatever? And yet it sounds so un-manufactured. So handmade and crafted, these dark, brooding anthems that seem (intentionally) barely held together by tinny wire and sheer concentration. Throbbing digi-bass riffs and paralyzed vocals recall something Joy Division-y
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week we answer questions about how to avoid getting sick of and at the office, being sunburned while traveling at the speed of light, and the origins of the Spanish-American War.
Editor Matthew Stadler and publisher Richard Jensen talk about turning books they love into beautiful publications, finding inspiration from distant sources, and how to recognize pomposity.
If you are one of the people who can imagine music that’s a precise combination of His Name is Alive, the Cocteau Twins, and It’ll End in Tears-era This Mortal Coil, then there’s a good chance you have a 1993 Vaughan Oliver calendar on your bedroom
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week we cover the many different kinds of canine companions you could choose to collar as “your best friend.” Except for schnauzers.
—The flight out of New York has been delayed because “We’re sorry, our plane hasn’t shown up yet! Grab yourself something to eat and sit tight! But don’t go far!” I’m slumped in a bucket-seated terminal bench, watching the newsdump via the CNN monitor parked
After a decade in the wilderness, mired in irrelevance, the Cure, at last? After misconceived covers of Bowie and the Doors, after multiple flits through a revolving door of band members, after so many questions from fans of whatever happened to them…where did it all drop so suddenly away?
After spending the past school year abroad in Scotland, where she learned how to fall asleep during a drum ‘n’ bass marathon, how to appreciate football, and how to stop and look around, Claire Miccio has returned home to the U.S., where she is now both a contributing writer