For most of my life, I’ve felt empowered by rap music. Growing up just outside of Detroit, I was motivated by Michigan rappers like Eminem, Big Sean, and NF, all hard-hitting lyricists. I idolized these people, aspiring to their work ethic. But after one last stretch, I’ve come to seriously doubt what they’re saying.
In 1992, Woody Harrelson proved to American audiences that “White Men [Can] Jump.” Seven years later, a flaxen imp from Detroit — whose namesake is the phonetic spelling of a chocolate candy — showed us that white men can become hip-hop stars by rhyming “beer” with “queer” in a song about killing his baby mama.…
A hot stinking mess of science fiction plot machinations, “Chappie,” the latest dystopian feature from South African writer-director Neil Blomkamp, is a periodically entertaining yet woefully amateurish flick about the ever-increasing capacity of artificial intelligence.
Austin City Limits took over Austin, Texas, for the last two weekends, bringing thousands of visitors and over 100 bands to Zilker Park. What differentiates good festivals from great ones can be split into three categories: the performances, the people, and what I’ll call “the fixings,” which includes food, shopping and general production. Here’s a…
“I know you want it” is far different from, “I know you don’t want it, and I am going to force myself upon you.”
Text from a good friend of mine on Monday afternoon: “So did you wet yourself when Arcade Fire won last night?”
My response: “The Grammys are so mainstream, dude.”
The MTV gods ought to be glad for Kanye West because their bland production had little more to run on than the fumes of last year through its three-hour-plus runtime.
In terms of musical creation, we’ve never seen a more schizophrenic decade.