I’ve spent most of the last two years reading through as many memoirs as I can while working on a book. Many of the best feel like conversations. They’re revelatory without feeling intrusive. Welcoming without being voyeuristic. And they feel honest. There’s a comfort in the uneasiness of the issues the writer processes on the page. A great memoir can feel like love.
Leon Bridges is over the “vintage soul” label. The singer’s first two outings, 2015’s Coming Home and 2018’s Good Thing, were critically praised, Grammy-nominated (Grammy-winning for Good Thing) and cemented him as a formidable talent. But they also placed him in a niche category — a retro soul artist channeling crooners of the ’50s and ’60s like Sam Cooke and Otis Redding.
A desire for revenge is one of the most universal emotions. In our darkest moments, in our most honest times, we’ve felt the pull to exact revenge on people who’ve wronged us. And sometimes those feelings of wanting retribution, reckoning or even the satisfaction of seeing the wrongdoers suffer, can consume us, becoming one of the only things we think about.
It took another cavernous and sometimes labyrinthian year of mostly repetitive and useless revelations for me to come to the one revelation that, it seems, is the mother of all the others currently tangled at my feet: The rumors are true, and nostalgia is a trap. I find it to be a useful trap, of course.
Jazmine Sullivan’s Heaux Tales could’ve easily been drowned out. For one, it dropped 48 hours after the U.S. Capitol insurrection in Washington, and quite frankly, that’s where much of the discussion in and around America lived in the moment. The world wasn’t purposely conspiring against the Philadelphia native. But it damn sure wasn’t doing her any favors, either.
I love the South. Particularly the Black South that is full of liberation, fire, Medgar Evers and Fannie Lou Hamer, fried catfish and people who crumble cornbread over their greens. I’ve lived and felt my truest self in the South for my entire life. Even after knowing how this place tried to kill my daddy in the ’60s and steal land from my grandaddies before then.
There is always the implied question of what we do with our seasoned hip-hop artists. Unlike other genres, in hip-hop, older artists don’t typically get a residency in Las Vegas or widespread invitations to perform their latest hits. In fact, the closer they get to turning 40, the more likely they are to rock the scarlet W. And once a rapper is labeled “washed,” those invites completely dry up.
In the months leading up to my grandmother’s death in late August, I was only allowed to visit her once every other week, peeking at her frail body through a window screen just outside the rehab facility. When I was finally able to go inside and embrace her, it was after she’d already died.
.Anyone in Washington will tell you this undeniable truth. The Donnie Simpson Show with Donnie Simpson and Tony Perkins is a perfect radio show. They’re just two middle-aged Black guys who crack dad jokes and laugh at each other while playing great music.
The concept of home is a complex narrative in hip-hop. Home is a source of immense pride and oftentimes the very foundation of an artist’s music. But home is also a source of immense grief. Following the slaying of Young Dolph in his hometown of Memphis, Tennessee, in November, revisiting Vince Staples’ self-titled project becomes even more of a harrowing and intimate experience.
It took less than a month for Squid Game, the South Korean survival series about systemic inequality and capitalism, to become the most-watched show in Netflix history. The show, in which an international elite coerces downtrodden people to play childhood games to the death with the hope of winning generational wealth, has had such a global appeal because of its universal themes of inequality, greed and oppression.
Rebecca Lobo tried. But even she couldn't remember the entire list. In April, before the start of the WNBA's 25th anniversary season, the retired hoops legend-turned-broadcaster took on a trivia question most can't answer: Who are the nine players in WNBA history who had a signature basketball sneaker?