
Review: Little Joy by My Disco
If minimalist three-piece My Disco were the Star Wars trilogy, this would be their Empire Strikes Back. We like it because it’s a scoundrel.
Entertaining smart people since 2009


If minimalist three-piece My Disco were the Star Wars trilogy, this would be their Empire Strikes Back. We like it because it’s a scoundrel.

Sure, it’s an awesome song, but as Channel Ten cancels a new show-choir series called Don’t Stop Believing, have we finally had enough of this Journey classic?

Question: What looks like a hipster art project, sounds like the most irritating hip-hop act of all time, and smells fishy? Click here for the Answer.

Thrilling and subtle on record, the Minnesota slowcore trio were less than electrifying when seen live before a subdued crowd.

Melbourne retro-rock puppies are back with an excitingly mature second album that only falters when it wears its new genre flourishes too heavily.

After soul singer Solomon Burke died en route to an Amsterdam gig, some obituaries have called him the “King of Soul”. But he’s not the first performer to lay claim to that crown…

Next time the hausfrau from accounts wants to lead a weary workplace chorus of ‘Happy Birthday To You’, defend Time Warner and collect $10,000 in royalties. Or suggest one of our alternative birthday songs.

Super Wild Horses’ debut full-length album is a delicious mix of gritty guitars and blissful harmonies.

The AIDS charity set up in Freddie Mercury’s memory is inviting people to dress as the flamboyant Queen vocalist for a day. But it’s all too easy for Queen cosplay to go terribly wrong…

In cartoons, alum puckered Sylvester The Cat’s mouth into a cat’s arse. Will this chemical compound do the same to your natural predators?

Critics revelled in spewing venom across the Linsday Lohan-helmed flop biopic Liz & Dick. But how did her Aussie (enough) co-star Grant Bowler fare?

Even the Olympics has indie cred: “I’m so cool I qualified for the Olympics before my nation’s sovereignty was even recognised, man”.

Fresh New York writing outlet n+1 ably (but irregularly) blows the cobwebs out of the stuffy lit-mag genre. Here’s a cheat sheet for the anti-literary magazine literary magazine.
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