Category: News

Post Malone‘s got a new album, Twelve Carat Toothache, coming out next week (what a great title), so naturally, he’s on a press tour to promote it after putting out the first single, “Cooped Up.” And because he’s Post Malone and thus drawn to doing things in unconventional ways, his first stop is none other than Complex’s Hot Ones. While chomping on ultra-spicy chicken tendies with Sean Evans, Posty chops it up about his new album’s recording process, playing Magic The Gathering, and yes, meeting an alien at his Utah compound — unless it was really a ghost.

The story comes up as Sean asks about his “close encounters with wildlife” out there in the hills of Utah, leading to Post recounting his trials with a “big mama cougar” who keeps finding ways over (or under, around, or possibly even through) his pet-protecting fence. “It’s supposed to keep all the wildlife out but somehow, this big cougar keeps getting in,” he recalls, before dropping the bomb. “Also, there was an alien there.” Obviously tickled by Sean’s bemusement, Post elaborates, “Not like a physical alien, but like a ball — I think it was an alien. Or a ghost. We caught it on the infrared camera. Does an alien count as wildlife?”

Post compares the “orb” to Sauron’s Eye from The Lord Of The Rings, which plays into his love of fantasy fiction.

Watch Post Malone’s latest Hot Ones interview above and listen to Twelve Carat Toothache on June 3.

Prolific screen and television star Ray Liotta has reportedly passed away. According to Deadline, the Goodfellas star passed away in his sleep while in the Dominican Republic shooting the film Dangerous Waters. He was 67 years old and leaves behind a daughter, Karsen, and a fiancée, Jacy Nittolo.

Liotta was experiencing a “career resurgence” thanks to performances in The Many Saints of Newark and Marriage Story. The actor also recently wrapped filming on the Cocaine Bear movie helmed by Elizabeth Banks. Via Deadline:

He had his “who’s thar?” turn in the Jonathan Demme-directed Something Wild and got a Golden Globe nomination, and then played banned Chicago superstar Shoeless Joe Jackson in Field of Dreams. He then quickly followed playing gangster Henry Hill in Scorsese’s Goodfellas, opposite Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci in what was to be the defining role of his career. The ruggedly handsome, blue eyed Liotta was a perfect Henry Hill, narrating a tale of his growth into an organized crime gang.

At the time of this writing, there are few details on the cause of Liotta’s death, but he will be sorely missed. With a whopping 126 acting credits under his belt, Liotta was a welcomed presence going all the way back to the 1990s. The guy could do comedy, drama, and everything in between. He even worked with The Muppets, twice, and fans of the iconic Jim Henson creations were quick to pay tribute to Liotta following the news of his passing. But he’ll be remembered most for Goodfellas, with good reason. Watch this scene again if you haven’t recently. Or even if you have. This is all really sad but we can remember the great work he did, too.

(Via Deadline)

There have been some really gross basketball games during the 2022 NBA playoffs, and for 24 minutes, it seemed like Game 5 between the Boston Celtics and the Miami Heat in the Eastern Conference Finals was going to be the worst of the bunch. Miami took a 40-37 lead into the locker room after neither team eclipsed the 20-point mark in the first quarter. Makes were hard to come by for both squads, and the Celtics seemed like their gameplan was to turn the ball over as often as they possible could.

Boston would go on to win, 93-80, to take a 3-2 series lead. It still wasn’t especially pretty, but the Celtics figured some stuff out in the second half and are now one win away from the NBA Finals. And in the aftermath, Jaylen Brown gave a pretty blunt answer about how the game was a story of two halves.

“First half was sh*t,” Brown said, per Jay King of The Athletic. “Threw it away. Came out and played basketball in the second half.”

Jayson Tatum, meanwhile, gave a glimpse into the halftime conversation, in which the team discussed the importance of more intangible things.

“Basically just talked about how much does it mean to us,” Tatum said. “We know all the plays and things like that, but saw the 50/50 balls and hustle plays and things like that are about toughness and effort. That’s what we talked about, us playing better, taking care of the ball, just competing. Because we know what’s on the line.”

Boston will look to close out the series on Friday night.

Seven years after delivering the action masterpiece, Mad Max: Fury Road, famed Australian director George Miller is back with his latest cinematic endeavor and 20-year-long passion project, Three Thousand Years of Longing, starring Idris Elba (as a freaking genie) and Tilda Swinton. However, Miller’s film is entering a landscape that’s gone through a rapid evolution since Fury Road hit theaters in 2015.

The proliferation of streaming content, which accelerated exponentially during the pandemic, has flooded the market with more films than ever before. While Miller looks at this trend with a reserved amount of exasperation at the sheer volume of it all, he also welcomes the challenge that this new landscape presents to filmmakers. Via Deadline:

“You are obliged to make your work unique in some way,” he said. “Otherwise it doesn’t stand a chance. If it falls too much into tropes or patterns that it doesn’t bring something apparently fresh in one way or another, it just doesn’t have a chance.”

Cinema, he said, was evolving, “And it’s evolving more rapidly than we ever thought. We have more so-called ‘content’ than we’ve ever had. There was a time when I felt I would see just about every film there was to see that was coming out. But that’s impossible now. Literally impossible.”

Miller obviously accepted that challenge as he sought to deliver an absolutely wild, yet personal film in Three Thousand Years of Longing that represents his own relationship with storytelling.

“A lot of me is in Alithea,” Miller said about Swinton’s character. “And the Djinn represents living storytelling, and also the effect of stories and how they can impact on the person who receives them.”

Three Thousand Years of Longing opens in theaters on August 31.

(Via Deadline)

In the wake of the recent Texas school shooting, Stephen King explained what it will take to end the never-ending mass tragedies like the one in Ulvade, Texas, which left at least 19 children dead after an 18-year-old gunman had zero trouble buying two assault rifles immediately after his birthday.

King supplies a very “simple” take (he uses that word, too), one that cuts through all the deflecting from Texas Republicans like huffy Sen. Ted Cruz (who walked out of an interview while complaining that people are politicizing the inherently political issue of gun violence) and Gov. Greg Abbott (who couldn’t believe that Beto O’Rourke called him out for doing nothing to stop the madness). These confrontations, while necessary, will likely go nowhere. To that end, King appears to suggest that there’s no changing the minds of these public-facing representatives. Instead, transformation is only possible by pushing them out of office.

“If the gun protectors in Congress are voted out, things may change,” the bestselling author tweeted. “If they retain their seats, nothing will change. Pretty simple.”

It’s an accurate point, especially because Mitt Romney isn’t about to return his $13+ million in donations from the NRA, nor will we see the same from the other lawmakers on the Brady Center To Prevent Gun Violence’s list of gun-lobby contributions.

King, who wrote an essay called “Guns” after the 2012 Sandy Hook mass shooting, has made no secret of his own firearm ownership. However, he has vigorously argued that semi-automatic weapons should be largely banned while also calling out how it’s simply too easy to purchase them. Meanwhile (this week) in Oklahoma, GOP lawmakers continued with their crusade of doing everything possible to make it even easier to purchase guns.

Yep, there’s a reason why “Sudafed” trended on Twitter this week — because it’s disproportionally more difficult to buy certain OTC cold medications than it is to acquire a gun. And yet, the NRA is still forging ahead with their pre-planned celebratory conference this week, and yes, Ted Cruz will be in attendance.

NORE has a bone to pick with artists who choose to grant interviews to more mainstream outlets. The rapper turned podcaster’s show Drink Champs has become a well of viral moments in hip-hop over the past few years. However, there remains a certain class of artists who offer first looks to shows such as David Letterman’s My Next Guest Needs No Introduction, Zane Lowe’s Apple Music show, or CBS Mornings with Gayle King. This has apparently stuck in NORE’s craw, and he made his feelings known on Twitter last night.

“I have been the best to this culture,” he began. “I have always put hiphop first and I see u guys go to Ellen and David letterman’s and Zane lows and treat them wit more respect then the culture but u say u want black excellence.” He continued, name-checking another few well-known hosts. “Imma be honest even going to Oprah or gal is trash at this point !!! We control our in culture why go outside of it!!! David letterman is my favorite but man why go there or Ellen before million dollars worth of game or joe or the champs or even twitter sh*t!!!”

Aside from the obvious answer, which is that all of those shows have way bigger audiences and reach than the handful of hip-hop-focused podcasts NORE mentioned, it’s worth noting some recent history in searching for an explanation. In recent months, artists like Ari Lennox and Kehlani have both spoken out about feeling disrespected in interviews.

Contrast that with Letterman’s laid-back softball style in his recent interview with Cardi B or King’s empathetic treatment of Megan Thee Stallion‘s shooting injury. Could it be that these women looked at how their peers were treated over such sensitive topics as gender identity and sexual activity and decided to forego the possibility of being publicly embarrassed?

How vulnerable could they be with the rowdy hosts of these podcasts talking over them, gaslighting them, and trying to be “funny” about being shot or dealing with criticism as a woman in hip-hop? Even Nicki Minaj has spoken out before about feeling disrespected by “for the culture” outlets and preferring the professional tone of “white outlets.”

It’s easy to understand where NORE is coming from. Why don’t hip-hop artists do hip-hop media? After all, who helped them get to the upper echelons of pop culture? It can feel like artists are avoiding the scrutiny from the audiences who know them best, only seeking out positive coverage from mainstream media. And that’s valid.

But when the hip-hop-centric media are only interested in goading their subjects, looking for viral moments or juicy gossip, we can’t be surprised when it turns out that professional artists don’t enjoy the less-than-professional atmosphere these shows create. There’s probably a middle ground, but with trust eroded on both sides, it’ll probably take a while for artists to feel like “the culture” gives as much as it takes.

Snoop Dogg and Tupac were two of the most prominent rap artists in the ’90s, both representing the West Coast as members of Death Row Records and maintaining a close friendship. Amidst rumors of tension between the label imprint, the dynamic changed a bit but not enough to where the “Gin & Juice” artist wouldn’t stop by to see Pac in his time of need. Snoop recently recalled his final moments with the “Dear Mama” rapper on Logan Paul’s podcast Impaulsive.

Snoop drove to Las Vegas after Tupac was shot in a drive-by shooting. He told Paul “We feeling like it’s going to be alright until we go to the hospital and see that he ain’t alright. He got tubes in him, and it’s like when I walked in, like, I could just feel that he wasn’t even there, and I fainted. Then his mother got me up and walked me to the bathroom, and had a conversation with me about being strong.”

Snoop has committed to keeping what they built alive as he recently purchased Death Row in a historic deal back in February. The 50-year-old recently released “Touch Away” featuring October London ahead of the Death Row summer album. Check out Snoop Dogg recounting the unfortunate experience on Impaulsive above.

Wilco has never been a democracy. As one of their former band members once put it, allegedly quoting Jeff Tweedy, a circle can only have one center. But for nearly 20 years, they have settled into a benevolent dictatorship in which each person has an important role — there’s the loyal lieutenant (John Stirratt), the multi-talented fixers (Pat Sansone and Mikeal Jorgensen), and the instrumental assassins (Glenn Kotche and Nels Cline). On stage, this collection of highly skilled musicians have given Wilco an extended period of stability that has come to greatly outnumber their highly turbulent (though artistically fruitful) early years.

On recent albums, however, Wilco hasn’t sounded much like a band. Instead, one of the most respected figureheads in American indie has felt like another side project for Tweedy to indulge his increasingly prolific songwriting habit. For all of their considerable merits, records like 2015’s Star Wars, 2016’s Schmilco, and 2019’s Ode To Joy are spare, brittle listens, in which the instrumentation is often pared back to the point of ambient minimalism. Those scaled-down sonics served the themes of Tweedy’s songs during this period, which more than ever were consumed by matters of mortality and the struggles of maintaining a personal sense of decency (or even sanity) in a terrifying, destabilized world. But the pleasures of seeing Wilco live — particularly this bountiful lineup, which continues to evolve and blossom with each and every tour — have been frustratingly absent from the band’s recorded work.

Enter Cruel Country, Wilco’s great new LP due out Friday. The product of the band finally assembling in the same room earlier this year for the first time since the start of the pandemic, this 21-song double-album was mostly recorded live and with minimal overdubs, a method that Wilco has not pursued since 2007’s similarly naturalistic Sky Blue Sky. Also like that record, a slightly jammy sensibility permeates Cruel Country; as Tweedy himself put it, songs were put down with “no ‘one’ person in charge,” which required faith in “a belief that we’re all heading toward the same destination, and we either get there together or not at all.”

This empathetic and collaborative musical approach is also suitable for Tweedy’s present concerns, with many songs centering on the “cruel country” that many of us call home. While Wilco’s entire career could be described as a project obsessed with interpreting (and in some cases subverting) the traditions of American music and making them relevant to our nation as it currently stands, Tweedy writes more directly about America on Cruel Country than he ever has. The record opens with Tweedy creating an ambivalent image of immigration in the Dylanesque waltz “I Am My Mother” — “Dangerous dreams have been detected / Streaming over the southern border” — that speaks to the dream/nightmare duality of America’s fitfully fulfilled promises. While there’s no question where the vocally liberal Tweedy stands, he’s able to hold two seemingly competing views of his homeland in his head at the same time, as he relates on the album’s thoughtful title track, singing, “I love my country, stupid and cruel / red, white, and blue”

But while Tweedy acknowledges the strife and division that defines public discourse — “There is no middle when the other side / would rather kill than compromise,” he observes in “Hints” — the music on Cruel Country pulls in the opposite direction, offering a hopeful counterpoint. If this really is an America in which those who come here in order to seek a better life are viewed by many citizens as “dangerous dreams,” this is also an America in which community among likeminded people in a rock band can be forged from the shared belief that “we either get there together or not at all.” Cruel Country is so expansive that it transcends the good vs. evil binary thinking that dominates both sides of the political spectrum, allowing instead for the reality of what this country actually is — a place where our best and worst selves are engaged in a constant, centuries-long conversation that tilts alternately between self-destruction and salvation.

For the long-time Wilco fan, that lyric from Cruel Country‘s title track might also evoke their first double-album statement, 1996’s Being There, in which our nation’s colors are defaced as the druggy “Red-Eyed And Blue.” That pivotal record marked Tweedy’s initial break from the genre that his previous band, Uncle Tupelo, was dubiously credited with spearheading: alt-country. In truth, Uncle Tupelo was always more influenced by Minutemen than Merle Haggard, regardless of their proclivity for occasionally reviving ancient songs on acoustic guitars. By the time of Being There, Tweedy was overt about making punk, folk, art rock, and ’60s and ’70s AM pop his primary touchstones, while also downplaying the down-home affectations of Wilco’s 1995 debut, A.M.

But now that we’re 20 years removed from Wilco’s ultimate “not alt-country” mike drop, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Tweedy is more comfortable than ever with adopting country signifiers. Enter Nels Cline, iconic indie-noise guitarist and (who knew?) accomplished country picker, whose plays like Don Rich with a Glenn Branca edge on “Falling Apart (Right Now).” And Tweedy follows suit, adopting a slyly funny lyrical voice on the record’s twangiest numbers. “Once I cut off my arm / I sewed it back on all wrong / Now I don’t have to bend / To reach the bottom shelf / When I need a story to tell,” he croons in “Story To Tell,” reviving the loopy John Prine-style humor of early Wilco classics like “Passenger Side” that he largely abandoned on subsequent records. The wry “Lifetime To Find” has a similar M.O., with Tweedy taking a brief tangent from ruminating on death to tell himself, “O’ Jeff / Don’t obsess.”

The most overwhelming moments on Cruel Country are when Wilco find a happy medium between country music and their more experimental side. The album’s best track, “Bird Without A Tail – Base Of My Skull,” is a stunningly pretty mid-tempo strummer that shifts into a gentle space-rock jam, like the Grateful Dead slipping in a brief “Dark Star” into the middle of “Ripple.” Another highlight, “Many Worlds,” builds from a dreamy psych-rock piano ballad in the mold of Buffalo Springfield’s “Expecting To Fly” to an extended interlude of Cline’s delicate cosmic soloing, ultimately landing on a honky tonk variation on his live workouts during the climax of “Impossible Germany.”

The heart-busting music on Cruel Country is a welcome respite from the bleakness that will inevitably accompany any truthful meditation on the United States. For all of his even-handedness about presenting the mercy and malice that defines life in contemporary America, Tweedy can’t help but concede that things seem to be trending downward. Though even here there’s humor, like the part in the amiable shuffle “Tonight’s The Day” when he relates a conversation between two dinner mates imbued with contemporary paranoia: “Patty whispered across the table / ‘I think we’re being watched. / You said we were invisible. / Tell the waiter, the sun’s in my soup. / And sooner or later my face will be too.”

The album ends with its spookiest track, “The Plains,” in which an anonymous Middle American embraces the bland and comforting fascism that for years has inexorably infiltrated the hearts and minds of the citizenry. “I like it here on the plains,” Tweedy sings over a ghostly acoustic guitar, sans band, as ominous disembodied noises loom on the horizon. “From what I see on my TV / There isn’t any point in being free / When there’s nowhere else / You’d rather be.”

I played Cruel Country a lot this week when I needed a break from news stories about school shootings, overseas wars, and eroding civil liberties. In the ’90s, musicians like Tweedy dug into the roots of America’s musical past to find a narrative that was more open-minded and sympathetic than the depressing stories we all heard in history class or on the evening news, which were always centered on political dynasties and endless military conquests. At its best, this music reminded people born into modernity that there was a rich heritage buried underneath the toxicity of institutional American history that we all could inherit as part of our birthright. We just needed to know where to look and how listen for it.

A record like Cruel Country can, I hope, remind a new generation that there’s a version of America rooted in art, love, community, and joy. It is, at heart, a batch of folk songs replete with lovely pedal steel guitars and warm organ fills. But the album also carries a harder, more pessimistic truth. It’s the one you hear in “The Plains,” in which the place that vows to give all who live here the world might in fact, in the end, take our souls.

“More Cowbell” isn’t the most-watched SNL sketch of all-time, but it might be the most famous. You probably know the whole thing by heart: “Yes, the Bruce Dickinson,” “the last time I checked, we don’t have a whole lot of songs that feature the cowbell,” “guess what? I got a fever! And the only prescription… is more cowbell,” etc. (My personal favorite moment is the way Christoper Walken says “cock of the walk, baby.”) “More Cowbell” has been watched and analyzed so many times that it’s difficult to find anything new to say about it, but Chris Parnell, who plays Blue Öyster Cult vocalist Eric Bloom, offered a little-known fact about the sketch on Late Night with Seth Meyers.

Parnell’s nickname while he was on SNL was “Ice Man,” which was not a Top Gun reference. Instead, it “both referred to the fact that you would execute a script sort of word perfectly, no flubs, but also you never, you famously never broke in sketches,” Meyers explained. He even kept it together during “More Cowbell,” a sketch where everyone, including Jimmy Fallon (of course) and Will Ferrell, giggled through their lines.

“I mean that’s really like the gold standard of not-breaking because I think when you go back and watch it, it seems like Will’s sole purpose in that sketch was to make his castmates break,” Meyers said, to which Parnell responded, “I think it was. I think it was. Christopher Walken and I did not break.” But! “There was a moment that the camera was not on me, and I knew it wasn’t on me, and I looked down at my guitar, and I smiled,” the Archer and 30 Rock star added. “So, I don’t know if that counts as a break.”

I’m still not sure how he didn’t break here:

That’s Emmy-worthy commitment to the bit.

You can watch the Late Night with Seth Meyers clip above.