Slant caught up with Egoyan to discuss what he thinks of Sarah Polley stepping behind the camera and the most difficult moment of his filmmaking career.
Music, from rock to reggae to blues, has always played an integral part in Demme’s movies.
This year’s series offers up a comparably varied and geographically far flung group of pictures.
The program turned out to be more or less a Loudon Wainwright show with the distinction of exemplary recent material
We managed to track down the notorious RPG-rap pioneer for a few questions, as he walks us through his most coveted release to date.
Like The Flaming Lips, Andrew Bird’s a musical existentialist: Lyrics of doubt and worry against a reassuring musical backdrop.
Auteurist artistry and genre craftsmanship remain vital filmmaking avenues throughout the decade.
There’s a lot of controversy about how closely, if at all, From a Basement on the Hill mirrors Elliott Smith’s intentions for its final form.
The splendidly odd Neko Case has the looks of a pin-up girl and the voice of an “American Idol” champion.
Last year, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, Gucci Mane suddenly become a rap critic favorite.
Mellow’s name was a lie: Perfect Colors, their second (and seemingly final) album proper, is breathlessly sarcastic.
That something vital to pop discourse might be lost if full-length albums disappear should give pause as we dive headfirst into the 21st century’s gangly, awkward teenage years.
After Moon Safari, Air were (at least briefly) mandatory entry-level indie listening, slotted alongside Belle and Sebastian and Elliott Smith; I grew up on them.
RJD2 eventually went in some poorly-reviewed direction or other I didn’t follow; apparently things got a lot whiter and clumsier.
Textbook blog-hype band: first album praised beyond (but only a little beyond) its merits by the blog cognoscenti, automatically slammed by same for their follow-up.
Arguably, the aughts traveled through three or four distinct phases of journalistically notable indie rock trends
Hello, and welcome to my much-delayed project to annotate my top 100 songs of our not-so-dearly-departed decade.
The decade that began with the commercial single seemingly gasping its last dying breath ended with it being the dominating format.
Grace Jones and David Bowie are obvious influences, but it’s impossible—impossible!—to discuss Lady Gaga and not talk about Madonna.