Word: minding
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...choice for a first single, is overly pretentious--he sounds like a gospel preacher gone New Age in proclamations like "we must rise to embrace our destiny." But other than that, Bryant Street never lets up, sounding like a recording of the killer DJ set that blew your mind and took your legs out with...
...only thing that kept me from becoming totally hypnotized by her penetrating performance was the screeching of hundreds of frenzied fans. They screamed the lyrics in near perfect unison, as if the show was just a festive jukebox of favorite Ani recordings, never mind DiFranco's efforts to flex her artistry outside of the studio mold. In response to altered melodies and new syncopations, they quickly adjusted their howlings and yowled on. It seemed at least one rabid fan cried. "I love you, Ani" or "Ani, you're beautiful" at every pause in the two-hour set and, a handful...
...Johnson, banking on a Burt Reynolds inability to covert our knowledge of his washed-up career into a slimy on-screen persona (what this implies about our judgment of people and stars is somewhat disturbing). Unfortunately, Johnson's acting skills aren't quite up to par (Tin Cup...never mind): his comic timing stinks and sinks one scene after another, not disastrously, since his character's smoothness is meant to fall short of his lust...
...refers to the Apollo-11 moon landing in 1969. In a shining example of metaphor, the story's writer (Pamela Gray) uses this historic event to parallel Pearl's exploration of her own new world. On the surface, A walk on the Moon seems like a typical story of mind life crisis and to some extent, that's exactly what it is. Pearl's sheltered upbringing lacked adventure and freedom; during the lonely nights without Marty, she comes to realize that the window of opportunity afforded by youth has been closed to her. The appearance of the blouse-man, with...
...only thing that kept me from becoming totally hypnotized by her penetrating performance was the screeching of hundreds of frenzied fans. They screamed the lyrics in near perfect unison, as if the show was just a festive jukebox of favorite Ani recordings, never mind DiFranco's efforts to flex her artistry outside of the studio mold. In response to altered melodies and new syncopations, they quickly adjusted their howlings and yowled on. It seemed at least one rabid fan cried, "I love you, Ani" or "Ani, you're beautiful" at every pause in the two-hour set and, a handful...