Bay Area hip-hop comes to conquer Madtown
When Zion I and The Grouch take the stage at the Majestic Friday night, it'll be safe to say the building will not be lacking energy.
Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Daily Cardinal's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query. You can also try a Basic search
298 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
When Zion I and The Grouch take the stage at the Majestic Friday night, it'll be safe to say the building will not be lacking energy.
It's a name that your parents are probably more familiar with, but one that our younger generation shouldn't just shove aside: The commercially and artistically successful Alison Krauss. Whether recording solo or with her band, Union Station, Krauss is the goddess of modern bluegrass music (not an oxymoron, I promise). She has the distinction of being the singer who has won the most Grammy awards of any artist, and she owes three of those (and her subsequent hop over Aretha Franklin for the honor) to the collaborative album with Robert Plant, Raising Sand, which took home Album of the Year among others in 2007.
With South by Southwest now over, there's a renewed interest in many independent film favorites that have been riding the festival circuit, hoping to find distribution or generate buzz. The following are four film festival favorites finally seeing theatrical releases worth checking out this spring.
Adam Sandler's ""Just Go With It"" is one of those romantic comedies that leaves you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. It's just the right amount of funny with a hint of romance. Adam Sandler plays Danny, a cardiologist in the making with a really big heart and an extremely large nose. After calling off his wedding with his cheating fiancee, Danny goes to a bar where he meets Joanna (a sexed-up Minka Kelly). She notices a wedding ring on his finger—the wedding ring from his scorned relationship he slipped on just moments before and unwittingly forgot to remove. Joanna's demeanor quickly changes. When asked about his wife, Danny creates a false marriage in which he's neglected and Joanna finds pity. She asks him if he wants to go somewhere and they leave the bar together. Danny decides that a wedding ring is an excellent tool for picking up chicks.
I really like to sing, which would be OK if I had a good voice. But I don't. Unfortunately, my mom never had the heart to tell me I was terrible, and thus I did a few local theatre auditions growing up. ""Annie""—rejection. ""A Christmas Carol""—rejection. ""The Wizard of Oz""—rejection. ""The Music Man""—rejection. In my defense, for that last one, I was up against the director's daughter and a girl who is now studying Opera Performance at Northwestern. So, like, I didn't really have a chance.
It's autumn. It's all beautiful and shit but those leaves are slippery, dawg and that crisp air makes it a little slick in the morning, okay? For me, it's even worse because I'm a natural-born klutz.
The album art for Intronaut's new album, Valley of Smoke, is some of the best the metal genre has seen all year. It shows a winged skeleton overlooking a hazy valley landscape, while a vibrantly colored lizard loiters nearby. The image is psilocybinic and prehistoric, like a glimpse into someone's twisted subconscious. It encapsulates Intronaut's elusive nature in a single image. Whereas skeletons are a stock caricature of metal lore, the lizard is not. This proves that Intronaut is not your typical metal band. Possessing metal, sludge and jazz-fusion skills, Intronaut have carved their own loner niche in the metal genre alongside other fringe acts like Isis or Cave-In. Over their short yet lustrous career, Intronaut have honed in on this conglomeration of styles in an evolutionary process (sans any growing pains) and garnered critical acclaim without any accusations of an identity crisis.
Deer Cardinal,
Everybody is looking at my face. And no, it's not because the mug shot accompanying this column has given me unprecedented recognition on campus. Rather, it's because, as the doctor put it, I have a ""severely deep laceration"" on my chin. I wish I could say it's the result of a girl fight in which I kicked some major a$$, but that would be a lie. Unfortunately, the ""chincident"" (chin + incident) is due to my clumsiness.
Like it or not, celebrities have more power over the public's mindset than those in office. Laws deeming sexual assault and rape illegal are enforced in all 50 states, yet the entertainment industry depicts the crime in such a way that society perceives it as permissible.
We like, we like to party. Scratch that, Vengaboys, we here in Madison love to party. To be exact, we love a nonstop party, the kind whose fun is not hampered and cut short by the men in blue. Noise complaints from angry neighbors often alert the police of said nonstop joy that occurs at our parties, creating a mess of tickets and fines that make the fiesta almost not worthwhile. Almost.
It didn't take long for 2010 to yield its first great film: ""Greenberg,"" the sixth feature by writer/director Noah Baumbach, is an awesome achievement on many levels. The movie isn't a must-see due to its prickly tenderness or its stealthy hilariousness; rather, it would work in even without those commendable qualities.
Today, tomorrow and Saturday the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art will host an event that, despite being an annual occurrence, has a relatively small profile amongst even the film-savviest Madisonians: The Romanian Film Festival. The emergence of the so-called Romanian new wave, a young cinema born nearly 30 years after similar movements popped up throughout eastern Europe, is one of the more curious developments in recent film history. Whether ""new wave"" is the best name for this movement remains open for debate; the first film screening in the festival is a French documentary, ""The New Wave of the Romanian Cinema"" (screens 6:30 p.m. Thursday), whose title seems to imply that the movement itself has embraced its contentious moniker.
Buddy cop films often get a bad rap. In an art form that almost requires constant re-invention in order to remain relevant and engaging, anything tried and true like the buddy cop formula can seem like it is yesterday's news. But oftentimes old comedy tropes can be as hilarious as any edgy new trick on the block, especially when they feature comedians in their prime who can make the material feel fresh. This could have been the result in ""Cop Out,"" a collaboration between slacker generation spokes-director Kevin Smith and current comedy golden boy Tracy Morgan. Sadly, ""Cop Out"" instead proves that neither Smith nor Morgan can light Twitter afire with LOL comments unless nestled in his comedy niche.
For those of you who know me, the fact that I'm writing about anything having to do with technology is quite a jaw-dropper. According to my ""tech-savvy"" friends and acquaintances, I am quite ""tech-crappy."" When my printer doesn't work, my attempts to fix it include name-calling, kicking and the silent treatment. It is currently resenting me for this abuse and refusing to print off my term papers.
As children, we were handed all of our romantic relationship expectations from various, seemingly innocent movies. With Valentine's Day coming up, it's time to compare what we know now to what we learned then. This in-depth analysis will take you on a roller coaster of truth. Be warned: It turns out that the couples we learned from were completely and utterly dysfunctional. Here we present six influentially bizarre movie relationships from our childhoods.
When I watch movies or read books and hear stories about people who see their lives flash before their eyes, I, like most other reasonable people, think they're out of their minds (or are on a mind-altering substance that immediately makes the story completely unbelievable and me completely jealous).
The Urban Design Commission met Wednesday night to discuss proposals for the Target retailer on Midvale Boulevard and renovations to Edgewater Hotel.
As tough as it was to watch my last Badger home football game come and go, the harder part was watching the complete atrocity that occurred in the fourth quarter. Yes, I know most folk were thrilled to see the brave band member who proposed to his girlfriend by having tubas march across the field with a message that read, ""Marry me, Kayla."" Why am I not happy for them? Maybe it's because I was planning on proposing to my girlfriend Sherry on our two-week anniversary AT THE SAME GAME! I was so outraged that he stole my idea that I wrote the culprit an angry letter. I thought about mailing it, but then I realized I had no idea who he was. So instead, I did the next logical option: I submitted it as a column in a college newspaper. Here it is:
Romance is not my thing. Some people like it, some don't. I am in the latter category. Sure, flowers are nice, chocolate is better, but I'd rather have a six pack of Spotted Cow and a slice of Ian's any day.