34th Street Magazine is part of a student-run nonprofit.

Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on our site.

Arts & Entertainment

No selling out here

We all know that entertainers are total sell-outs. Whether your problem is with the Rolling Stones for playing at the Super Bowl or Ice Cube for dropping his N.W.

by BENJAMIN MARRONE

Flying Coach

In the wake of Ashlee Simpson's lip-synch debacle on SNL nearly two years ago, Kelefa Sanneh wrote a diatribe against its most strident critics in The New York Times. "The Rap Against Rockism" asked "Could it really be a coincidence that rockist complaints often pit straight white men against the rest of the world?" (A rockist, of course, being a subscriber to the creed of authenticity and a strict guitars-drums-bass worldview.) In other words, is "alternative rock," in all its monikers, yet another white boys' club defined by its own exclusivity? Coachella, a documentary on the six-year-old Indio, California music festival of the same name, incessantly begs such questions by refusing to play to its strengths.

by ALEX JACOBS

Take me to your leader

There comes a time for the aging heartthrob to retire his half-buttoned shirt and resign himself to making more family-friendly films.

by APRIL HAIL

Slevin years bad luck

Lucky Number Slevin is a veritable melting pot of film styles, buzz-inducing high concepts and A-list actors.

by MAGGIE HENNEFELD

Turner classic

Strap on your cowboy boots everyone because Ted's Montana Grill has officially invaded Philadelphia.

by GREG MORAN

Philly's main men

Who: Philadelphia's own Man Man Genre: Experimental melodic mayhem Sounds like: If Frank Zappa and Tom Waits had a child out of wedlock Songs to download: "10 lb.

by MANYA SCHEPS

It's Gettin' Heavy

Much of the hype surrounding the Flaming Lips' long-in-the-works 12th album jumped on frontman Wayne Coyne's murmurs about "more guitars." The Oklahoma City veterans' last two albums, 1999's brilliant The Soft Bulletin and 2002's kinda brilliant Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots, eschewed the band's tattered punk threads for heady, orchestrated prog.

by JIM NEWELL

Crash and Burn

It breaks my heart to have to say this, but Freddie Prinze Jr. turned 30 this month. That's right, kids, the guy whose boy-next-door charm made She's All That watchable has hit the big 3-0 ... and he's had one hell of a ride.

by ,

I was meant for the stage

Heather Douglas left Penn in 1995 with a degree in English and dreams of one day becoming an actress.

by VINCE LEVY

Starring a Band with an Asterisk

Their music has been dubbed new-wave, pop-punk and various combinations thereof, but stellastarr* just likes to call it "rock." Between watching soft-core porns and touring to promote their album, Harmonies for the Haunted, stellastarr*'s pretty busy these days. Street: How would you define your music?

by JACLYN EINIS

Ice, Ice Mammoth

The key difference between Ice Age and Ice Age: The Meltdown is really just that everything is melting.

by EMILY LASKY

Slither me this

At first glance, nothing seems to be appealing about the new horror film Slither. In typical horror movie fashion, giant red slugs chase hapless South Carolina bumpkins up and down farm houses, through bathtubs, and other charming facets of small-town America.

by DEREK MAZIQUE

Time-rusted stone

There is absolutely no room in 2006 for Sharon Stone's 48-year-old breasts. Since Basic Instinct 2 sports scarcely any other images -- excepting car crashes and endlessly-recurring exteriors of large phallic buildings which can all be read as metaphors for Sharon Stone's breasts -- I am going to venture that there is no room in 2006 for Basic Instinct 2. A sad attempt to revive the '80s/'90s sex thriller genre, Basic Instinct 2 suffers from severe temporal confusion.

by MAGGIE HENNEFELD

Putting the Woo Back into Wu-tang

Real thugs never die. Unfortunately, they also have trouble staying creative. Ghostface Killah's newest album, Fishscale, is yet another record to emerge from Wu-Tang's prolific machinery.

by GABRIEL CRANE

MTV BMOC

Dov Kogen began singing and writing songs at the ripe age of three, when he took the tune of Jewish hymn "Adon Olam" and set it to the one-word lyric "guitar." "I didn't actually play guitar back then," the psychology major and music minor says, "so I sort of strummed my aunt's 30-year-old classical guitar," which he would actually learn to play in the fourth grade.

by LISA TAUBER

Philadelphia Film Festival

Evil Premieres April 3 at Ritz Five, 5 p.m. The Greeks may have given us philosophy and democracy, but come on, that was so BC.

by 34TH STREET

O welcome back, karen O

With the wild success of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs's debut album Fever to Tell, the musical trio from New York set a remarkably high standard for itself.

by MANYA SCHEPS

Inside man, not inside me...

In a era of big budget remakes and sequels, (can you say Rocky 6?) Spike Lee's new joint, Inside Man, is a welcome puff of fresh air.

by DYLAN MCGARRY

Teen films

On spring break, somebody suckered me into sharing a bed with a bronchitis-ridden travel partner and, as you might guess, I started feeling the symptoms a few days into the trip.

by JON LEVIN

Watch me watch

Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That! pioneers the documentary "concert film" as a democratic and participatory medium.

by MAGGIE HENNEFELD