photo of Bodega zaniness by Rebecca Smeyne
In the week the Jonas Brothers attempted to bring light to the blind, we watched the Grammys set race relations back 20 years. Chris Brown and Rihanna missed the ceremony, but you already knew that, didn’t you?
We talked to actor Elliott Gould, TV host and Pat Buchanan-sympathizer Willie Geist, Los Campesinos!, and novelist John Haskell. Also uncovered: a fairly heartbreaking interview with David Foster Wallace.
M.I.A. may or may not be a terrorist apologist, says the New York Times, who are way out on a crazy, offensive limb with this one. Other than that, it was a good week for rap (not such a good one for hip-hop cops): Busta Rhymes and Rich Boy and Jadakiss and The-Dream probably have pretty great albums on the way, Asher Roth has the planet’s last guaranteed platinum record coming, and Limp Bizkit, who are not a rap group, not matter what Fred Durst may think, are also, apparently, reuniting. We’ll forgive that Kid Cudi thing but just barely.
Speaking of actual indie-rockers: that Obits track “Pine On” is not quite as good as that Thorns of Life bootleg, but put em together and you have a ’90s dream bill that I don’t think ever actually happened.
Sufjan’s long-hoarded, unheard song, now heard; Zadie Smith’s NYPL lecture, now in print; poet Michael Robbins, now in surround sound. Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson showed his true colors, High Places moved to LA, and Willie Nelson took charge at Lincoln Center.
The City, The Real World, and American Idol are all, sadly, still going strong. Fashion week, on the other hand, is just getting started. Pulp Fictions went to the New York Comic Con, Bones said goodbye to the Guild & Greyshkul gallery, and with that, we’re saying goodbye to you. See ya Tuesday.