Word: angstful
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Echo and the Bunnymen emerged from the post-punk scene of Liverpool in England in the late '70s, and injected a shot of desolation into the synthesized neon colors of the New Wave music scene. While their debut album Crocodiles held compositions of jarring angst, later albums like Ocean Rain promised gentle beauty. However, by the time the group broke up in 1988, it was a shadow of its former self. Still, the group recovered from the tragedies of original drummer Pete DeFreitas' death and suspect musical side careers and finally resurfaced with Evergreen in 1997. 1999 saw the release...
...playing with kids half my age was a refreshing break from angst-ridden twenty-somethings. Outside the Old City in Jerusalem, I found a group of ten year-old Arab boys, who always played soccer in the late afternoon. I became a regular member of their pick up games, trying to ignore the stares of tourists and passers...
...that anyone who was not a J. Crew pedagogue in high school can appreciate. Sprinkle in a cyber-romance, a couple of tequila shots and a big handful of bra-strap headbands, and you've got a movie. But this movie is also a crash-course in teen angst, dealing with issues of deadbeat dads, cancer-fighting moms, weight problems and basically any other issue that can currently be seen on any late-night Lifetime movie. And, like any self-respecting teensploitation movie, the soundtrack is righteous--a noble dance version of Backstreet Boys "I Want it that Way" actually...
...think Tori Amos knows what Tori Amos is saying, but most of us can mysteriously understand what she's feeling. Her fifth solo release, the double-CD set To Venus and Back reaffirms the notion that even a string of random words can, in some way, convey angst, love, and yes, even more angst. Unlike her prior albums, which dealt with Amos's traumatic past, To Venus and Back doesn't really have a theme, but Amos insists that it was instead inspired by her Muse. "I look at the piano, I stalk her, she looks at me, takes...
...This week, we talk to the people who think they should die. While many of our population stay in counting our Dave Matthews T-shirts and WBCN buttons, a gang of subterranean music-lovers is stoically, imperceptibly up in arms over the death of real music. The existential angst of today's sell-out music industry is visited on their bodies in rings, rags and tattoos. They congregate daily at the underground hub of the hub of the universe, and sling albums, gig times and rap loops at one another. Keeping it alive are they-while we shuffle by them...