Word: raves
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...proved that they were more than just a local conversation piece. In fact, at the time, the album turned them into the biggest-selling rock band to come out of Colombia. Their 1997 follow-up, the more polished La Pipa de la Paz, cemented this reputation and earned them rave reviews in the U.S. as well...
...haven’t taken an Af-Am class yet, this is the semester to start. Glenda Carpio’s two new classes, Af-Am 112: “Black Humor” and English 176x “Black Women Writers” are garnering rave reviews, and word is, she’s developed quite the following on campus. Tommie Shelby’s Af-Am 128 “Black Nationalism” is also supposed to be quite good, but may be intended for the more serious scholar (read: no watching Richard Pryor standup...
...every day.” While Corda is perhaps a biased source, he claims that he’s not the only one who enjoys the spigot’s glory. Corda says that after the water authority built its own plant in Cambridge in 1998, they received rave reviews from customers. “For the first time, we got a handful of calls from people saying that the water tasted much better now that we’re back on our own water.” And to boot, he claims that the delicious natural beverage is above...
...even facetious in its own testosterone-connoting nature, has now become commonplace and far more widespread than locker rooms and athletes’ suites. It’s like The Cranberries said: Even everybody else is doing it. Rage, that is. Not to be confused with “rave,” of course, a very mid-nineties word (think Empire Records and Claire Danes) that defined an all-night party, usually in a warehouse-like club, most likely featuring numbing techno, and almost always involving drugs and military boots with baby-doll dresses. Raging is a far more...
Many a Sunday brunch has been ruined when I open the New York Times—eager to read an in-depth feature about this month’s offerings at the Museum of Modern Art—but find instead a rave review about an opening in Berlin. The college student who can barely afford an online Times Select subscription surely cannot hop a plane to Paris/London/Bilbao—why must Nicholas Ouroussoff tempt me so? Like the unnaturally blue bagels left beside the toaster, so too is the Times’ Arts section rejected when they insist...