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Last week, Brigitte Bardot celebrated her ninetieth birthday. In celebration, let’s talk about the icon who didn’t just make the world fall in love with her—she made the world obsessed with her.
In Xiu Xiu’s seventeenth studio album 13″ Frank Beltrame Italian Stiletto with Bison Horn Grips (henceforth Stiletto), Jamie Stewart and Angela Seo sacrifice none of their signature eccentricity. For artists of the avant–garde, navigating the fringes of artistic expression means bracing for critical rejection, facing an audience unsure of whether to recoil or lean in. Like every preceding Xiu Xiu album, Stiletto demands a little speculation. What’s it gonna be this time? For over 20 years, Xui Xui has defied all classification—every record a rebirth of genre and concept, weaving a narrative through the group’s discography. In this history, Stiletto is a chapter of change, inspired by their recent move to Berlin from Los Angeles and a “destruction of previous aesthetic notions,” according to the band. The record was mixed by Grammy award–winning producer John Congleton, who was granted a liberal dictum by the band to “go crazy.” But despite this approval, Stiletto, in the whole of the band’s work, might just be their most approachable project yet.
This July, Jojo Siwa dropped her fourth EP, Guilty Pleasure. Months prior, Siwa defined this highly anticipated album as personal rebranding: a transition from her formerly charismatic Nickelodeon persona to a provocative, grunge influencer. RIP to the 2017 Jojo and her bows, neon jackets, and anti–bullying anthems. The two music videos accompanying Guilty Pleasure—for singles “Karma” and “Guilty Pleasure”—illustrate this artist’s reinvention of her image: Siwa now centralizes her choreography, costuming, and lyrics around her love and lust as a mature adult.
Blank pages, brain fog, and a pad of crisp white sketchbook paper—the quintessential recipe for the inevitable onslaught of art block: the thief of creativity. But as the artist battles against the onset of apathy, October provides a unique cure: Inktober, an art challenge for everyone. Pen, paper, and a single–word prompt provide the antidote to every creative’s worst nightmare.
Every Tuesday and Saturday, a collection of independent mom–and–pop vendors set up shop around Rittenhouse Square, transforming the park into a bustling marketplace. It’s not the produce that stands out—standard fruits, meats, and eggs that could just as easily be found in any grocery store—but rather the demographics of the crowd. Young people flock to these markets in droves.
It feels like The Dare’s song "Girls" is all around us. It’s become the (supposedly) sex positive anthem for the girls themselves, the backtrack of Instagram stories or self–referential thirst traps. It’s the talk of the effervescent “Indie Sleaze revival” we’re still waiting on, with everyone seeming to have a take on the return of a raunchy, sin–addled party scene for hipsters and the song as its poster child. Hell, we even used the song at a Street meeting as an icebreaker, Buzzfeed style–what type of girl are you?
You’ve probably seen his videos before. Or, if not his videos, you’ve definitely seen his wild YouTube thumbnails. Grotesque and provocative, featuring copious amounts of neon–colored foods in unholy combinations—think blue Takis mixed with mayo and instant ramen—and close–up shots of theatrical facial expressions. Images like these are snapshots into the chaotic world of Nikocado Avocado, the YouTuber whose videos have racked up millions of views while changing our perception of internet fame.
“LE SSERAFIM - SATURDAYS, COACHELLA.” In the billboard announcing their upcoming set at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, the members of the K–Pop girl group LE SSERAFIM are positively aglow: hair swept, gazes confident, skin sculpted. The day before their set, frontwoman Yunjin posts a photo of the group on Instagram posing with the announcement, Hilary Duff's “What Dreams Are Made Of” playing in the background. It is the youngest K–Pop group to clinch a set at the lauded Indio, Calif. music festival a mere two years after its debut; the members are excited, ready to mark a significant milestone in their artistic career.
Sept. 19 was a really important day for me. That’s right, the trailer for Den of Thieves 2: Pantera, the sequel to 2018’s wonderfully trashy Den of Thieves, was finally released. Upon pulling up the trailer on the biggest screen I could find—my laptop—I had a series of strong, visceral, bone–deep reactions.
Pilobolus, founded in 1971, has been creating acrobatic, playful contemporary dance since its inception. Its current show, re:CREATION, showcases Pilobolus’ iconic choreography as it tours across the United States. While the show had its moments of brilliance, the pacing dragged on at times, feeling overly grandiose.
“The public brought all this on itself … I have no sympathy for people whining about high ticket prices … They helped create this situation where artists have to make all their money on tour. Artists and the market set the prices, and you can't pay a Motel 6 price and stay at the Four Seasons." —Fred Rosen, former Ticketmaster CEO
Before coming to Penn, I would take a trip to the movie theater nearly every week. My sister, who worked for our local theater, always got me free tickets, so I spent every second I could staring at the silver screen. I felt like Nicole Kidman! Experiencing movies on a massive screen with a medium popcorn (extra butter) and some cookie dough bites is truly an “indescribable feeling.”
I have been single all 19 years of my life, and tuning into The Bachelorette every Tuesday night this summer only reminded me of that fact. Several times, I found myself thinking about how lucky Jenn Tran must feel to have a sea of men vying for her affection and how excited she must be knowing that she’ll walk away with a life partner. But after doing my own research on the show and learning that most couples from the show fail to stay together in the real world, I slowly realized that the show portrays an idealized, unrealistic image of love by avoiding one topic: politics.
We arrive through the woods, following the anemic light of glowsticks scattered along an unmarked trail, vaguely referring to a map we received a few hours ago. As the distant rumbling grows more intense, we begin to feel a pulse in the earth, a change in the air; all trepidation and inhibition dissipate as we are drawn to that thudding siren song.
Sept. 21 is a very special day for fans of the popular 70s pop/funk band Earth, Wind & Fire. The group’s highest charting song, “September”, has had listeners in a chokehold since it was first released in 1978. As the shakers and bass come to a close, the intro’s orchestration gives way to some groovy wind instrumentation leading to the high point of the song. Piano and funky electric guitar accompany lead vocalist Maurice White as he asks the fateful question: “Do you remember / The 21st night of September?” Sept. 21 has since been dubbed “Earth, Wind & Fire Day" by both casual and die–hard fans.
At exactly 8:30 p.m., the lights go off at the Wells Fargo Center. After a summer of waiting and anticipation, the night has arrived. Troye Sivan takes the stage, joined soon after by Charli xcx. It's the spectacle of a lifetime. For those of us here at Street who survived the concert and can parse through our memories of the evening, we offer up all of our reflections, ruminations, and reviews of the night.
A lush patchwork of green once welcomed visitors to the Arthur Ross Gallery in the Fisher Fine Arts Library. Bold brushstrokes stood firm against a fragmented sky, capturing the resilience of two pine trees whose branches stretched daringly into the expanse. They stood together, their limbs entwined as if each offered the other strength to rise higher. Their leaves, tinged with a hint of crispness, suggested a drought—a subtle nod to the hardships faced by the artist David Driskell in his formative years in Appalachia. These trees, like Driskell himself, embodied a defiant resilience, a strength echoed in his art and in his life’s work: the elevation of fellow Black artists.
Everyone hates movie musicals, right?
There are beehives on Penn’s campus, but finding them is no easy feat. Past Franklin Field, over a set of railroad tracks, and around the Hamlin Tennis Center, they’re tucked away in Penn Park. Once you’ve made it that far, you’re close, but still, you can hardly notice the bees’ presence. After all, the hives are hidden away in a dell behind thick brush, in an otherwise unassuming wooden shed. But once you trek through the overgrowth and open the door, a new world is uncovered.
The Wharton student to world–tour artist pipeline may not be large, but for recent Penn Alum Inci Gürün (W ‘23), better known under her stage name “INJI,” following her passion is paying off.
Solutions by The State News
