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In case you hadn't already realized just how many of your friends at Dartmouth are from the Eastern seaboard (or, in particular, the New York metropolitan area), fall's first holiday vacation makes the geographic breakdown of the College's student body abundantly clear. At Dartmouth, Thanksgiving isn't about people coming together to share in a bountiful harvest; it's about the kids who have relatives within driving distance of Hanover visiting their families for home-cooked Rockwellian spreads, whilst the rest of the population tries to decide whether an outrageously expensive roundtrip plane ticket is worth it to avoid gnawing EBAs pizza crusts on the last Thursday of November.
Anyone who follows news in the world of independent music has surely by now heard of the little band with the tragically bad name, Arctic Monkeys. Since the band's demos became available over the internet in late 2004, British youths have gone mad (perhaps "ape-sh*t" would be a more appropriate colloquialism) over the new thing from Sheffield, the city whose last great contribution to music came in the form of Jarvis Cocker and Pulp. Monkeys concerts began selling out before the band even had a contract; the boys, led by 19-year-old singer Alex Turner, began appearing in music rags nearly every month, and the country was generally enraptured with a band that made a name for itself purely from huge fan support.
It is somewhat ironic that the two heaviest hitters to guest star on Kanye West's sophomore effort, "Late Registration," unwittingly emphasize the divide between West and the bulk of mainstream American rap. When Jay-Z takes over the second half of "Diamonds From Sierra Leone," he throws down the line -- in typically hotheaded H.O.V.A. fashion -- "I sold kilos of coke / I'm guessing I could sell CDs." On the very next track on the album, "We Major," Nas pops in, spitting, "I heard the beat and I ain't know what to write / First line, should it be about the hos or the ice?"
A parade on Saturday through downtown Hanover featured pint-sized cars and men garbed in red fezzes, but it was only a prelude to the heated Shrine Maple Sugar Bowl that followed -- the annual football game between Vermont and New Hampshire high school students held at the College.
When one thinks of an auteur of the cinema, a couple names pop to mind: Truffaut, Bergman, Bresson, Tarkovsky to name a few. Looking to Japan, one might name Ozu and Kurosawa as the definitive auteurs of the Japanese cinema, but to stop the list there is to criminally overlook perhaps the most popular filmmaker of contemporary Japan: Hayao Miyazaki. Miyazaki focuses on the adolescent as much as Ozu focused on the family, and is as enamored with flight as Tarkovsky was with water. And as Miyazaki acts as the head animator on all of his films, one can quite literally see his touch on every frame of every motion picture.
Does the fact that only five of the songs on the newest Oasis album, "Don't Believe The Truth," are actually penned by Noel Gallagher make the album actually more representative (democratically) of Oasis, or less like Oasis (artistically)? Does the fact that Ringo Starr's son (Zak Starkey) drums on the album mean that the brothers Gallagher have gone further in their miming of the Beatles? And is it really possible that the album could beat out the perennial classics "Definitely, Maybe" and "(What's the Story)" as the Mancunian siblings have babbled to the eager press?
Editor's Note: This is the final part of a three-part series in which The Dartmouth will report on the proceedings at the Tribeca Film Festival in New York City.
Editor's note: This is the second of a three-part series in which the Dartmouth will report on the proceedings at the Tribeca Film Festival in New York City.
Editor's note: This is the first of a three-part series in which the Dartmouth will report on the proceedings at the Tribeca Film Festival in New York City, which will be running through the month of April.
During my senior year in high school, much of my free time was spent working in my hometown's independent video shop. Short of a few institutionalized rules, employees of the shop were free to play their choice of videos or CDs on the store DVD player. On those occasions when beautiful weather outside coincided with my dominance of the remote control inside the shop, a promo copy of Luna's "Romantica" that had been nabbed from the music store next door was often designated the album of the day.
Like the bandana around the face of their ubiquitous stenciled logo, the boys of Kasabian are shrouded in their own bits of mystery. The band, originally from Leicester, England, reportedly retreated into an old remote farmhouse to record their eponymous debut album. Rumors say they named the place Plaggey Bag Ranch, toked up more than their fair share and surrounded themselves with tons of music. But whatever they did, apparently it worked. They emerged as scruffy, longhaired stars with an ace album, filled with a mixture of violence and paranoia embedded in dark, clubby electronic-infused rock beats.
Apparently the American music industry holds strongly to the belief that any Valentine's Day compilation must be saturated with Elvis and Dean Martin tracks, or else it won't sell. Sadly, this makes for few options when trying to soundtrack the only holiday that more aptly divides the general population into the "haves and have-nots" than any economic policy ever could.
Explaining Ed Harcourt to the uninitiated is somewhat difficult. He isn't like any of the young male singer-songwriters familiar to the radio-listening American public, mainly because he doesn't turn out "pret-a-ecouter" tunes that will placate your grandmother.
Mat Brown '05 had an epiphany of sorts while watching the news of the catastrophic tsunami that occurred in the Indian Ocean over winter break.
Okay, true story: It's New Year's Eve, and The Dartmouth's arts section says to itself, "Huh, what should be my resolution for 2005?" A difficult question for anyone, but seeing as the arts section is already thin as paper (literally, I mean) and doesn't like chocolate anyways, its only option left is to resolve to "improve itself." The arts section thinks to itself that it really likes running concert reviews. But, damn, wouldn't it be nice if more people could go to those concerts and enjoy them with the writers?
Campaign trail theme songs are nothing new. Celebrity artists were even making a splash back in 1960, when Sinatra himself provided JFK with the tune "High Hopes." Today, Bruce Springsteen -- the politically-conscious "Boss" who famously refused Ronald Reagan the right to use "Born in the U.S.A." on his campaign -- is providing Kerry with the trail theme "No Surrender." And who could possibly forget Al Gore using Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al" on his 1992 campaign for veep?
MONTREAL, Oct. 16 -- Arriving at Cabaret La Tulipe, I suddenly wondered whether I would have anything to write for an article on that evening's Libertines show. Having spent the day traipsing around the city, I found myself with a ticket in one pocket, cash in another, but my back pockets devoid of either pen or paper. No way to write down any form of setlist.
When Enon played the Friday Night Rock scene last weekend, FNR managers said the performance was, musically, their biggest show yet. This week, they are going for their biggest show yet -- physically -- by expanding the set to cover two floors of Collis: both downstairs' Fuel Club and the mezzanine-level Collis Common Ground.
When Matt Brown '05 announced to last weekend's crowd at Friday Night Rock, Dartmouth's weekly free alternative rock show that might be the only redeeming factor of Fuel Rock Club in the Collis basement, that this coming weekend would be bringing the band Enon, some excited crowd-member shouted back, "The actual Enon!?"
For some reason -- who knows why -- this year has been a standout for rap and hip hop. DJ Danger Mouse, by illegally mixing the Jigga man with the Fab Four, made one of rap's most innovative albums in years. Kanye West amazingly straddled the line between critical acclaim and love of the masses, proving to be just as intelligent in his spitting as he is in his mixing. And the rap group that every indie rocker loves, The Roots, continued their amazing success with a new fantastic album.