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In my experience, few leave an Evgeny Kissin concert disappointed.
Nowhere do I say in the piece that The Arts Fuse is all good and everyone else is all bad.
In a modest tweak of Dorothy Fields’ lyrics to the famous Jerome Kern song, this weekend will be Boston’s chance, via the Design Museum Boston, to sit yourself down, dust yourself off, and start all over again.
Next season’s stale programming certainly derives from the BSO’s lack of a music director guiding and shaping the overall course of the season.
It’s official. The 2013 jobs report of an organization called CareerCast rated “newspaper reporter” as the worst job in America.
There was probably no better summing up of Woodstock Nation than the lines, “Sometimes, I feel, like a motherless child/A long ways from my home.”
A movie critic can’t help but tie the Boston Marathon tragedies to the cinema, and so John Frankenheimer’s “Black Sunday” (1977) obviously flashes to mind.
If I suffered half as much from the thought that most art has been lost as I suffer every day from the recollection of departed family and friends, I would be in a mental hospital. In this sense, I found myself resisting the message of “The Melancholy Art,” to the point that I felt that the book was laying a guilt trip on me.
Cultural Commentary: Why is Boston’s Arts Coverage So Bland?
According to our docile mainstream media, Boston enjoys a perpetual Renaissance — the merchandise in the cultural window is always worth buying. And that predictability makes for very boring journalism.
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