As the night progresses into a face-swatting, tunnel-crawling kaleidoscope of misanthropic immaturity, the screenplay devolves into the same carousel of drama: “What will Donald do to upset Pete this time?”
Back in January, we experienced the first snapshot of Sharkmuffin’s upcoming opus, Tsuki. The rough mix of “Little Bird” was an elegiac thunderstorm of adult compromises.
The streets of Hong Kong look violently purple, plum-stained and glistening. Sunglasses shaped like hourglasses plunge against wrinkled bed sheets.
The instrument jarring, floor stomping, guttural vehemence of Brooklyn’s Ex-Girlfriends — Tarra Thiessen, Heather Cousins, Christine Hill, Monika Knapp — create a landscape of circus mirrors and guitar eviscerating mayhem.
Flummoxed, Huppert was probably using an abacus to count down the minutes until the ceremony had concluded. Having had won the Golden Globe for Elle, only a month earlier, Huppert’s expression was of restrained and collected resignation.
In advance of The Traditional’s upcoming album, The Queen of Heaven, we interviewed Anthony Musior about formal wear; the rugged, heel-thumping importance of Nikes; and the empirical greatness of sunglasses.
Caila Thompson-Hannant’s kaleidoscopic iridescence is both saltwater taffy and tall shadows. Operating as Mozart’s Sister, the Montréal-based artist draws wavy chalk lines that are hopelessly full of life.
Cousins racks the shotgun by spinning in a heap of wires, mashing the microphone, and roaring on the floor of the iconic City Heights venue. The one-two punch of Thiessen and Cousins may be the best in rock music right now.
I stumbled across Chance the Rapper’s latest video, ‘Same Drugs’. I’ve listened to last year’s exceptional “Coloring Book”, several hundred times in 2016, so I was familiar the Chicago-based artist’s song — but this accompanying video threw me into a throng of emotions.
Much can be made of dreams. They are ephemeral pockets of panic, subletted by a motoring mind. They bounce, dive, and thrash through perforated memories and blanched realities. Things are readily amiss, and often times trounce through uncanny valleys.