Last night at the Orpheum I laughed through an interesting failure. It was Young Frankenstein,
Mel Brooks’ Broadway adaptation of the film of the same name, and more
importantly, his follow up to his first incredibly successful Broadway
adaptation, The Producers.
Young Frankenstein isn’t terrible. All of the leads…
Nobody holds onto Washington
Heights for very long. Even its namesake, the great General George himself,
coughed it up to the British after a few months during the Revolutionary War.
As the tallest hill on Manhattan Island,…
Dogs are okay.
It’s not an opinion that I’m very vocal about. Like love of our flag or love of our Lord, puppy love is something that’s simply unquestioned in this country. Recently, on the Jay Leno Show, Chris Rock delineated our newest piety when he joked about the modest level of outrage directed at Roman Polanski’s…
There was a lot of guitar in my life last week. Between Shon Troth’s expert slide work at Rock the Garden, to Eric Clapton and Stevie Winwood trading licks at Xcel, and Johnny Swardson at the Stone Arch Festival, I’m all set. But the musical highlight of the week came from an old piano man: Allen Toussaint.
Pardon the Yogi Berra-ism, but some classics really are classics. During the opening scene of the touring production of A Chorus Line, stopping at the Orpheum this week, I got the same jangly, overwhelmed-with-panic emotional feeling, in my stomach, in my throat, behind my eyes, that Spider Man must get when Dr….
Last Sunday, I went to the Ritz Theater to talk to composer Chan Poling about his new musical, Venus, which tells the story of a middle-aged woman who gets transformed into a sexy pop-star/supermodel. You can tell it’s Sunday because of my hair and because I mentioned that it’s SUNDAY—HEY, IT’S SUNDAY, I’M WORKING ON A SUNDAY—about eleven times during the shoot. (Thank you to…
Maybe you’ve noticed—Facebook is freaking people out. And this anxiety of the new seems to be intensifying, because now—as every newspaper writer in the country has pointed out—mom is on Facebook. In this Sunday’s New York Times Magazine, Peggy Orenstein is the latest “oldster” (her term) to ask what it…
Excuse me while I take a Jim Walsh, romantic-rock-historian moment.
I was actually nervous for this interview. That doesn’t happen much anymore (unless she’s really hot) but this time, nostalgia was working against me. You can tell there’s something weird going on—my mouth is hanging open for the first half of the video. And I’m not a mouth breather. (I swear.)
The Jayhawks meant something…
I’ve always liked Samuel Beckett, but I’ve never seen him in person. Last night, at The Guthrie’s premiere of Happy Days, I finally did.
Along with Krapp’s Last Tape and Waiting for Godot, Happy Days is another one of Beckett’s masterpieces of the absurd. The staging is as pomo as it…
Last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine profiled post-feminist
sexologists. One of them, Dr. Meredith Chivers, a scientist at the
University of Toronto, studies sexual desire by showing film clips of
copulating heterosexual couples, homosexual couples, and Bonobo apes to
men and women sitting in Lay-Z-Boys. The subjects’ genitals are hooked
up to delicate instruments measuring blood flow in order…