As the great poet and prophet Nick Cave sagely observed on The Boatman’s Call, people ain’t no good. And the more shows that you attend, the more profound those words become.
When Tyler, the Creator speaks his mind, people listen.
If you’re a music fan, this is a fantastic time to live in Surrey. (And if you don’t, it’s a good time to visit.)
Screw the four-octave voice—the truly remarkable thing about Ariana Grande is the way she’s been so relentlessly smart about her branding.
With the possible exception of the gorgeously mulleted burnouts from Heavy Metal Parking Lot, who would’ve thought we’d be sorry to see Mötley Crüe shuffle off into the abyss?
Moby is still out there, harping PETA half-truths at people and trying to be America’s answer to Morrissey.
By all accounts, Drew Burns never got misty-eyed or nostalgic about the Commodore Ballroom from the time he stopped running it in 1996 to
Why wasn’t Iggy Azalea’s brain as big as her deservedly fabled ass?
Joan Jett’s finest moment—the one that sums up everything about how insanely great she is—doesn’t tend to get a lot of play once you go beyond the hard-core faithful.
To those on the outside looking in, he might be the most mammothly messed-up megastar in the long and sordid history of pop music.