Luckily for me both Jay and I’s thug days are over. That was made quite clear on his most recent LP 4:44.
When I heard Takashi Murakami’s retrospective The Octopus Eats Its Own Leg was being
installed at Chicagos’s Museum of Contemporary Art, my well being shot up a few points.
I am not a morning person. If I can get away with not waking up before noon, I will. There aren’t many things that can change that. A couple weeks ago, my mom tossed 3 bags of chips at me after I had worked late the night before. I glanced at them, chuckling at the…
They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, apparently, no one told Mac DeMarco.
Heartbreak, drugs, sickness, and sadness make the perfect cocktail for the sadboy album of the summer.
While Death Grips blends the genres into something uniquely them, Show Me the Body revels in creating an exhibition of each form.
I committed myself to getting into Spoon and was pleasantly rewarded exceptional, swirling, psychedelic haze that is Hot Thoughts.
Tennis have carefully curated their image and sound and on their latest effort it seems they have it down pat. Dreamy synth pop reminiscent of 1970s disco era, but with a melancholy undertone only the millennial age can understand.
Even after four EPs and now being on their fifth studio album, WHY? have still not figured out how to create a masterpiece.
Like a Tim Horton’s coffee maker, Drake is a Canadian machine.