The end of the world may or may not come. That Mayan calendar thing turned out to be nothing, Y2K did not cause planes to fall from the sky. Television and tent revival preachers have been predicting the end of days for generations. It may be the second coming, a rogue comet hurtling toward Earth, nuclear annihilation,
or any of many other options.
As we wait out over a month before Este, Danielle and Alana officially unveil the album, it can be comforting to know that there are plenty of other artists within the same vein delivering considerably excellent work, and we need to give them attention.
Music did its best to try and apply soothing antiseptic to an otherwise frightening 2016. At least we had some sort of positive, yeah? The incredibly strong year for music has seen no issue carrying over, seamlessly, into the first three-plus months of the new year.
Movies are meant to do a lot of things: Shine light into a dark world, educate, enlighten and bring truth to the screen. They’re meant to tell a story that you’ve never been told before, or put a new spin on a tale you’ve heard before.
Though the film has a seemingly linear storyline, there is still an eerie sense of unpredictability: the unconventional structure and tone makes sense, all of these years later, when you are familiar with the unmistakable abilities of the movie’s creators.
Sweat lacquered, brow furrowing, thirsty dudes are on the hunt to destroy everyone’s careers, even their own, in Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s 1948 classic, The Red Shoes.
The symphonic infrastructure of art across all mediums does indeed still exist in 2017, but it requires some digging beneath the surface to unearth, especially in music and cinema.
Formed in Los Angeles in 1983, the Mutts built up a legend for raucous live shows, ragged pop gems about blondes with bangs, John Hughes movies and the burning desire to live in San Diego.
It is clear to see the influence this film has had on certain works from the likes of John Carpenter, Pedro Almodovar, Guillermo Del Toro, and countless others.
Back before the earth cooled and life crawled from the primordial ooze, nightclubs dotted San Diego’s map. The Spirit (off of Morena Boulevard) always had great bands running through and if they knew my I.D. was fake, they never made a big deal out of it.