When Nyla Wissa arrived at Emerson from the Boston Arts Academy, an arts-focused high school, she was surprised to find a lack of people of color in the performing arts department.
“They don’t make ’em like they used to.” That chestnut is trotted out to remind us of the supposed halcyon days of manufacturing—a pointed questioning of the authenticity of modern industry. When applied to music trends, it remains equally problematic, but despite this there’s a longstanding movement based on that very same premise of misinformed nostalgia. This trend, which outright rejects all things contemporary, even has its own term: rockism.
In the first scene of Jennifer Haigh’s short story “Sublimation,” a mother and son sit down to watch Jeopardy!. As he sips on his drink, the son leaves lipstick on the rim of his glass. His mother says nothing.
George Clinton is known for a few things about his performances throughout the 1970s: donning flamboyant costumes made of flags and diapers, tripping on acid, and of course, bringing the funk.
Quinn Marcus grew up in the south, attended a high school full of close-minded classmates, and has known she was gay since age six.
Although my taste in literature has expanded and deepened, I still put aside John Milton and Vladimir Nabokov to indulge my taste for the macabre from time to time, and am rarely disappointed.
There’s a decidedly less spooky horror movie that holds a special place in my heart this time of year.
After graduating from high school in 2012, Ben Bersers-Lee was itching to get out of his suburban bubble of Lexington, Massachusetts and experience life as a “real human being.” That fall, he moved away from the conventional path of attending college and moving into an Allston apartment, spending two years managing personal finances and cultivating the sound of his indie rock band, The Symptoms.
Live Music Week is WERS’ version of Mardi Gras, according to General Manager Jack Casey.
During his minstrel career in the late 1800s, autistic savant Blind Tom was reportedly able to play three different songs in three different keys at three different tempos simultaneously. Jeffery Renard Allen’s Song of The Shank, a luminous novel set during the aftermath of the Civil War, follows the story of this man, a slave who became a national phenomenon after being sold into show business.
The music landscape is in a near-constant state of flux, and at the heart of all this activity is music journalism
Among the daily flow of traffic pouring through Boylston and Charles Streets stands a statue of Edgar Allen Poe in mid-stride, manuscripts flying out of his briefcase and fallen leaves circling his frame. The literary icon returned to his birthplace earlier this month to celebrate Boston’s recent designation as the country’s first Literary Cultural District.
At a glance, Middletown looks to be the epitome of average. But the play is an exploration of the time between youth and old age, and the distinctive struggles and triumphs that come with it.
By the end of a vacation at Disney World, many visitors are familiar with Cinderella’s iconic castle, but fewer know about the complex web of underground tunnels to be explored underneath it.
The most pleasurable reading experience in my recent memory was when, for the third time, I pored over the entirety of “Notes toward a Supreme Fiction,” one of Wallace Stevens’ major long poems