Arts & Entertainment
DIY Sand Art
Joke Issue: We all hail from Philadelphia, dear readers, the most glamorous and industrious city on the Eastern Seaboard!
Listings Dec. 9
Joke Issue: Friday, December 10: Big Daddy Charles and the Charlatans, with the Back Alley Sextet, Le Chat Noir, 5 cents Big Daddy Charles hails from the Mississippi Delta, where he learned to play the gobble–pipe with the coolest cats on the Bayou.
Someone's Been Hitting' The Hooch A Little Too Hard
Joke Issue: Cruising around the Big Apple in his flivver for hire, Lenny the Cabbie has seen his fair share of odd birds.
Puntal/Contrapuntal: Big Bands Vs. Small Bands
Joke Issue: I LIKE BIG BANDS By Bubba "Hands" McNulty Hey fellas. Depression got you down?
Venues 'N' Shit: Homeless Haven
Joke Issue: By Rack 'Em Rack Willie Oh freight train. I remember when you used to come 'round these parts.
One Track Mind: Shirley Temple "Baby, Take A Bow"
Joke Issue: While we’re still years away from any comprehensive child labor legislation, one little girl is toiling away, and her hard work is paying off.
Defibrillator: Arthur Fields "Hunting The Hun" (1917)
Joke Issue: Back during the Great War, while most of my pals back home were drinking and carousing, listening to that “jazz” music, I was stuck, cowering in a trench in France.
Ask Gloria
Joke Issue: Dear Gloria, My daughter Mildred has just turned 16, and I’m worried stiff about her future.
Hollywood Goes Really Really Gay
Joke Issue: By Floyd Alistair Wallace Times sure ain’t peachy out there. Falling stocks, Dillinger’s violent escape from the Hotsquat and Dust Bowl winds that make the blizzard gusts in The Gold Rush look like hogwash are sure to make you want to crawl up in bed after collecting faggots for the fire. But don’t be a total pansy.
Deja Vu: I Ate My Shoe
Joke Issue: Let me tell you something: there ain’t a straight–shooter in Hollywood more ace than Charlie Chaplin! I was no butter–and–egg man before the crash.
Interview With Bela Lugosi
Joke Issue On the eve of The Black Cat’s release, Street caught up with Bela Lugosi, who has been a Hollywood sensation since his 1931 performance as Count Dracula.
This Week in… 12.02.2010
MUSIC Friday Dec. 3: The Antlers with The Luyas, First Unitarian Church, $13 Brooklyn–based trio The Antlers started as the solo project of Peter Silberman, who recruited Michael Lerner and Darby Cicci to back him on drums and keys, respectively.
Thank God It’s (First) Friday
This monthly art block–party is more than just an excuse to pilfer cups of wine from the galleries lining Second Street.
Review: Wharton Esherick
The work of Wharton Esherick just asks to be ignored. Sitting in Van Pelt amongst angrily buzzing computers and tired students buzzed on caffeine, an art exhibition doesn’t stand a chance.
Review: NIcky Minaj, Pink Friday
I was pretty much destined to have a complicated relationship with Nicki Minaj. On the one hand I just want her to succeed; one, because she is trying to revive the sadly lapsed tradition of fierce female rappers, and two — my more visceral reason — because she, like me, is a woman of Caribbean descent trying to do big things.
Guilty Pleasures: Peter Frampton, “Frampton Comes Alive!”
I wasn’t always ashamed of Frampton Comes Alive! I disowned it only in my mid–adolescent hipster years, after the following words, encountered in a magazine, dealt my innocence a cruel blow: “Frampton Comes Alive! is a fixture of record store bargain bins.” I hadn’t known that five–minute talk–box solos, exclamation–pointed album titles and cover art showing Frampton doing his best impersonation of Christ were not cool.
One Track Mind: “Doncamite,” Gorillaz
If you thought Gorillaz were satisfied with this year’s Plastic Beach, their epic, critically–acclaimed third album, you’d be wrong.
Review: Girl Talk, All Day
All Day is, by its very nature, an extremely difficult album to review. There aren’t really “songs” to highlight, themes to pick up on, lyrics to quote.
Deja Vu: Civetbusters
Where does Larry King belong in relation to Ghostbusters? If you answered that he probably knows the famous spectral exterminators well, having been mistaken as a walking corpse by countless concerned citizens, you would be wrong. Mr. King can thank the civet cat for providing him with the enviable status of being only one degree of separation shy of the 1984 classic. After a nice meal and some r–and–r the night before Thanksgiving, my recently–reunited family settled down for some bonding time.
