The costumes, the performers, the props, the light show — it was all smoke and mirrors. That is, smoke and mirrors set to the tune of some pretty groovy psychedelic pop. Read more…

The costumes, the performers, the props, the light show — it was all smoke and mirrors. That is, smoke and mirrors set to the tune of some pretty groovy psychedelic pop. Read more…
Thirty years ago, a 28-year-old man read the Diary of Anne Frank and was so moved by her stories of cat-like curiosity, innocence, and sexual awakening that he wrote a full concept album about his love for her and the life they could have lived out in his dreams.
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Mother Falcon played as part of the 2014 Noise Pop Festival.
Last Thursday, I had the fortune to see all twelve members of the eighteen-piece orchestra from Austin, Texas play on a Persian Rug under the cardboard-colored arch of the Chapel in downtown San Francisco.
Oh man. Oh geez. It’s Valentine’s Eve. Either you forgot to get a significant other or you forgot to get something for your significant other. Plus midterms, and that bomb scare. It’s been a rough week. Uncork some wine, buy some overpriced chocolates, and listen/watch/read what a bunch of old dudes have said about love and other Hallmark’s card bullshit.
Three day weekend left you weakened? Now is not the winter quarter of your discontent. If you’re feeling down, start bumping these tracks, even if you’re in Green Library. People will appreciate your verve.
At other universities, Dead Week is a time removed from scheduled classes during which students are encouraged to study and review their class material in preparation for a week of final exams.
Stanford’s official response to this widely practiced reading period: “lol go 2 class foolz.”
One might wonder: what is the plot of a play without a plot? Ideas? Youth. Terrorism. Pornography. Pseudoegalitarianism. Abstraction!
Confusion? Good.
Approaching the Stanford Co-Op Columbae, I noticed two things. The first was that the red brick steps had been laced with Christmas lights, and opposite them sat plush couches and armchairs that had been moved outside for Acoustic Jukebox. Their aesthetic ease matched the vibe of the night. The second thing I noticed was that the ‘A E’ in Columbae’s house sign had been taped over and in its place was a homemade Sharpie and printer paper sign that said “I R T H.”