Leave it to guitarist Bill Frisell — he always knows where the musical goodies are to be found.
Seth Rogen puts in double duty as an early 20th century Jewish immigrant and his modern great grandson in a comedy that starts off sweet but leaves a bitter aftertaste.
The City of Boston needs to think seriously about maintaining its distinctive charm, and street furniture is a very powerful tool to that end, when strategically applied.
The Oxford band’s third album dispenses with personality in favor of bland trap pop.
This is not a music documentary, it’s a kind of jaunty-artsy immersion in and around the Newport Jazz festival, including scenes of the host city Newport, the America’s Cup race, festival goers, kids in playgrounds, etc.
A supple, evocative novel that meditates on family and loss and art.
“I don’t like writers. . . . Writers are very despicable people. Plumbers are better. Used car salesmen. They’re all more human than writers.”
La Llorona’s deepest horrors flow from real history, from the atrocities inflicted by powerful men and the institutions established to ensure they get away with it.
What exactly did the Duke’s music symbolize to Russell’s shifty characters, two upwardly mobile lowlifes more anxious to fleece the world than fall in love?
“The sun and everything in this world is there waiting for us—patiently and loyally. To feel its power, we just need to make the choice to get up, go out, look up and connect to its magnificence.” That is really, truly, there in the music.