“One lesson is that when a country feels like it’s really gone off on the wrong track, a social movement that finds a way to express that dissent in the streets can really make a difference.”
As we grapple with building the brave new world of live theater in a Covid and post-Covid world, a few stray thoughts.
Doja Cat offers a glaring example of why the music industry’s new (albeit Big Brother-inspired) way of doing digital business is here to stay.
A cautionary list of cliches, accumulated during a lifetime’s observation, for the next generation of jazz critics — and readers of same.
Though its prose veers into academic rough patches, the volume does what it sets out to do, brilliantly portraying how the delusive demon of meritocracy has led America into its current socioeconomic quagmire.
The City of Boston needs to think seriously about maintaining its distinctive charm, and street furniture is a very powerful tool to that end, when strategically applied.
In Burnt-Out Wife, Maine-based performance artist Sara Juli takes on the unarticulated rage lurking in a long-term marriage with a deft touch and the humor of a born stand-up comic.
“The sun and everything in this world is there waiting for us—patiently and loyally. To feel its power, we just need to make the choice to get up, go out, look up and connect to its magnificence.” That is really, truly, there in the music.
If there’s ever been a more distinctive jazz musician than Rahsaan Roland Kirk, you’ll have to prove it to me.
It’s never a good time to be diagnosed with cancer, but June 10th, 2020, was among the worst. By that day, 7,454 people had died of COVID-19 in my state of Massachusetts.