2005 July

You can call yourself a roadhouse, but that doesn't make you one. On the other hand, the Northfield Roadhouse could call itself the Automat, but it would still be a roadhouse. For decades, the unassuming cinder-block...

She's so much more. Bebe can dance. She made her debut in A Chorus Line as a dancer, appeared in two Bob Fosse dance reviews, and won her first Tony in his revival of Sweet Charity. Bebe can sing. She won her second and...

I don't read enough detective fiction to get passionate about the nuances that distinguish different writers. I read it for fun, and I'm comfortable with my stereotypes. I think of British detective fiction as being...

When you listen to Preston Woodward, you quickly get the feeling that listeners should be sitting around him in a circle, outside in the dark woods, drinking ale from clay mugs and throwing logs on a fire. I guess you could call...

If there were ever an artist who won on points for ambition, Beth Patterson's the one. She sings lead vocals and, on her recordings, backup too. She plays an arm's-length list of instruments. She writes her own songs,...

It's hot, all right, and although I'd rather be home hanging out in the backyard, my boys have noticed the carnival and been promised a ride on the bumper cars. They don't forget. The parking lot is full of teenagers...

When all those American Idol contestants take a simple note and add all those extra frou-frou decorations, they somehow turn music into sport — a yawner contest to see who can add the most frou. When Daisy May does it, it...