As ever, it’s advisable to check in advance to confirm engagements.
MUSIC
Breland
COUNTRY The singer-songwriter Breland’s music was born into an “Old Town Road” world. In 2019, in the wake of Lil Nas X’s breakout hit and the controversy surrounding its genre, Breland’s début single, “My Truck,” felt poised to make sense of the confusion. A honky-tonk trap ode to a long-standing symbol of blue-collar life, the song used its unmistakable synthesis of country and rap signifiers to display not only the alchemy of modern music but the shared history between the two genres. His recently released début album, “Cross Country,” deepens this relationship, even allowing country lifers such as Thomas Rhett and Keith Urban to indulge their hip-hop impulses. Breland’s music feels natural to both worlds—not an anomaly but a distinct perspective.—Sheldon Pearce (Mercury Lounge; Nov. 18 and Nov. 28.)
Burial: “Streetlands”
この記事は The New Yorker の November 21, 2022 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
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この記事は The New Yorker の November 21, 2022 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
YULE RULES
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”
COLLISION COURSE
In Devika Rege’ first novel, India enters a troubling new era.
NEW CHAPTER
Is the twentieth-century novel a genre unto itself?
STUCK ON YOU
Pain and pleasure at a tattoo convention.
HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
REPRISE
Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.
WHAT'S YOUR PARENTING-FAILURE STYLE?
Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.
COLOR INSTINCT
Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.
THE FAMILY PLAN
The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.
