Vari-Colored Songs was the sweetest boost anyone has given Langston Hughes in decades.
Before Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, before Iggy Pop, before the New York Dolls, David Bowie was my personal post-’60s music inamorata.
If anyone needs more evidence that graphic memoirs are the equal of purely literary ones, Invisible Ink closes the case for good.
Blues feeling remains as unpredictable as ever. Who would have guessed that its strongest incarnation this year so far would be Ironing Board Sam’s Super Spirit?
Claims that Stephan Micus erases international boundaries and makes one-world music get it backward. You visit his world on his records.
So there was the Ornette Coleman Quartet, leading off the final side of vinyl with a cut that changed my life, “Lonely Woman.”
Axel Krygier wisely treats the album’s framing concept as lightly as possible, turning Monsieur Bigfoot into a sort of Everyhominid who offers existential-woe comments on a variety of subjects.
No disputing it – right now, Vijay Iyer is The Man on jazz piano.
A graphic novel about the death of art and the art of death
Arts Fuse critics select the best in film, theater, music, dance, and author events for the coming week.