F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said there are no second acts in American lives and a resilient and lucky breed of Americans have been proving him wrong ever since. First heard from as the gravelly Memphis boy bluesman fronting The Box Tops, where he suffered rockstar burnout while making hit records even so crabbed an anticommericalist [...]

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The film plays with all the tropes. Emmett Malloy, the director, seems to have a supernatural understanding about what makes the band so intriguing and why they were the sole survivors of the bloody neo-garage wars of the early ’00s.

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Halloween Swim Team’s fury of musical spirits encompassed the Echo Curio crowd, possessing and blessing eustation tubes.

—Chris Sanchez

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Download: Amanda Jo Williams “Ohio”

(from Yes I Will Mr. Man out Mar. 17 on White Noise)
Amanda Jo is a real-life force of nature and so is this little Holy Modal Rounders/Michael Hurley/Henry Flynt-style song that will make you wanna watch a Saturn V launch from between the palm fronds over your back porch! Have moicy!

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Americans celebrate St. Paddy’s Day not because we love Ireland, but because drinking is such a big part of our lives. Drinking is a glorious edge-taker-offer, a social lubricant, a fast track to party time and getting busy. It’s often the worst thing you could’ve done last night for all those reasons. Here’s a mixtape of original songs to get you through this holiday in style!

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The most exciting thing about the show is how loud it was, almost an act of civil disobedience in an affluent department store. I watched the same salesperson from whom I made a purchase earlier now covering her ears so as not to upset her blissful unawareness.

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Even after songs like “I’m Sorry I Love You,” “Walk a Lonely Road” and “I Don’t Really Love You Anymore,” I came away from the Magnetic Fields performance at the Wilshire Ebell with a calming sense of serenity. Or perhaps it was just sleepiness. The show itself was pretty uneventful, but Stephin Merritt’s soothing baritone vocals could be extolling the virtues of flaying live puppies and I’d still walk away feeling good.

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The crowd was a surprising mix of greyhairs, baldheads, WB Network fans, some that dressed like Grunge was topping the charts, emo-kids that made me think it was an all-ages show, and, yes, those in all black. There were so many couples grinding away in corners, I thought I was in a hip-hop video. Fun for all and hopefully the dude reading a New Yorker had a good time as well.

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On the second of a two-night stand at Spaceland, the band gave fans a well-picked but fleeting review of its melancholy catalogue. MacLean’s guitar work is nearly as fascinating to watch as it is to hear: one set of fingers flailing fast to pluck the strings, the other stretching into complex chords most of us have probably never heard of, all while he shakes the entire instrument about.

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