We all have our vices.
We all have our vices.
I’ll admit that I was a little apprehensive about going to see Justin Townes Earle on his most recent tour, in support of his new Memphis-soaked album, Nothing’s Going to Change the Way You Feel About Me Now. The album, while palatable enough, just hasn’t stuck with me at all. This spring I’ve found myself spinning Beach House’s Bloom and Sleigh Bells’ Reign of Terror; both of which stand in stark contrast to JTE’s almost bland aping of Americana.
But the tickets were only $14 dollars and Townes Earle is a great songwriter. So, despite the state perpetual exhaustion that I’ve been in over the past three months, I decided to go. And I’m glad I did. Continue reading
I would drive up to my buddy’s house, unannounced, bored, perhaps, desiring the company of one of my oldest, best friends. I’d park my hand-me-down Jeep in the roundabout driveway, power down the ignition, clamber out of the driver’s seat, slam the door, and lock it with a strong thumb against an ancient key-button. I’d pace past the hemmed bushes, sneakers on the concrete path, eyes on the auburn door. Ring the doorbell, were it working at the time, or knuckle a knock against the heavy oak. More often than not, he would greet me there. “Oh, hey, Tyler. Looking for James?”
Social media exploded this past weekend, or at least the sporting side of it.
I’m going to contradict myself a lot in this piece. The Oscars won’t broadcast for another week, so you’ve got plenty of time to get over it.
Oh, and the only thing I’ll say about the hosts: Billy Crystal is nice, but they really should have sprung the cash to get Kermit the Frog.
When I survey the universe of movies, I find that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, with their annual Oscar awards, represents the braying ass of cinema. Forever kicking up a bunch of dust and making unintelligible noises, I think my comparison is apt. The organization is little but an ancient cloister of nepotism and poor taste, packaged once a year for us in the most mind-numbingly tedious awards show known to mankind. HE-HAW!
When you are young and you are in love, you do stupid, stupid things. Reason and logic mean nothing to the mind in love; emotions rule every waking moment of your life, and they dictate every decision from the smallest to the greatest. Young, dumb love can keep you from thinking, at least in practical terms. This universal truth is on full display in Drake Doremus’ Like Crazy. And if you’ve ever done something incredibly stupid in the name of love (most all of us, yes?), then you will feel a lot of pain and sympathy as you make your way through this movie. Continue reading