Review
Now, we’re told, Trajal Harrell has been researching Butoh dance and hoochy coochy dance, hooking them up with the precursors of modern dance and slathering on generous amounts of gender theory.
Despite its occasional confusions, this is poetry I will return to — to re-experience A.E. Stallings’ wit, wisdom, and word-smithing.
K.K. Downing does not trash Judas Priest or its legacy, but he gives, from his perspective, an honest and believable assessment of the group and his role in it.
Tyshawn Sorey flies far from his innovative masters. I hardly expected that the result would be so mesmerizing and alive.
Eleanor Burgess’ The Niceties is an articulate, if structurally crabbed, expression of #blacklivesmatter anger as well as a millennial rebel yell.
The show’s attempt at satire comes off as blunt and lecture-heavy at times, but the production still manages to be an engaging comedy of manners.
This slender memoir reads like a rambling conversation with a literary stranger you meet on a train.
How will PC New Englanders react to seeing nutria gunned down by hunters, and some bashed on their heads to make sure they are dead?
In every meaningful way, The The’s return to the States, the band’s first tour in 16 years, was generous.
Two Mahler symphony entries: one is above average, the other a disappointment. Violinist Arabella Steinbacher delivers a first-rate and strongly recommended disc.
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