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The Christmas of 1985, I was 19 and living in Paris,
where I worked as a fille au pair for Monsieur and Madame Roth and their two young
daughters. I was homesic
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In his essay-cum-manifesto “The Fullness of
Time,” the composer Carl Nielsen cautioned against the pursuit of
novelty for its own sake: “. . .
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Once you get past the stupid name, the simplistic
songwriting, and the almost uniformly abysmal lyrics, Lavender Diamond is a
really great band — but isn&
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Starbucks references
have become an indie cliché, a form of slackerist shorthand whereby
privileged whites rag on the economic class that spawned them. T
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It seems unimaginable that Joni Mitchell, one of the
most influential singer/songwriters of the latter part of the previous
century, hasn’t received the t
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At 67, perennial cult
hero Ian Hunter isn’t likely to snag the mainstream fame that has
eluded him for 40 years. The former Mott the Hoople frontman has a
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The French, to paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, are
different from you and me. They take their dogs to cafés and leave
their kids at home with filles au p
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The backlash has landed:
Wilco, the little indie band that could, isn’t getting a free pass
from the press anymore. Sky Blue Sky, the Chicago outfit’
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Whether it’s to allay the anxiety of influence,
honor important forebears, or simply work through a case of writer’s
block, most musicians consider