Most Popular
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Swingtown
Local swingers think life is a bowl of cherries, but Duncanville wants to spit out the Pit
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Deep Ellum LIVES!
Scott Beck's about to buy 14 acres in the"heart" of Deep Ellum. What then?
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Un-Super Size Me: One Week of Eating Local
One mans attempt at slow food living in the Dallas metroplex
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Toll You So
The Trinity River Project should be floating right along. Instead it's sinking under the weight of its own folly.
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Six Pac
The Cowboys are counting on NFL outlaw Pacman Jones to pop the top on their sixth Super Bowl.
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Seeing a Ghost
Yeah, Grandmaster Flash graced the ones and twos at Ghostbar this weekend. But who cares? The people there didn't seem to.
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Behind the Curtains
A weird weekend in Deep Ellum: names were changed, CDs were released, and two bands supposedly called it quits
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Another Matter Entirely
The members of The Theater Fire are as different as Lightness and Darkness
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Dirty Talk
Twenty years later, the godfathers of grunge in Mudhoney still remember their roots
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Pet Peeves
The Beach Boys are popping up everywhere this year in music but don't seem to be getting their due
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Village Voice
Subjected to the light of day, Sarah Palin doesn't look like a maverick at all.
By Wayne Barrett
SF Weekly
Exposing a construction-site scam only a San Francisco cop could love.
By Joe Eskenazi
Houston Press
Ronald Taylor is one of perhaps hundreds of innocent people Harris County has put in prison.
By Randall Patterson
Westword
Sloppy U.S. government paperwork is putting the lives of asylum seekers at risk.
By Lisa Rab
Oleander
January 13
Published on January 09, 2003
Oleander is a droll name for a band whose lead singer's last name is Flowers--the Sacramento quartet gets its handle from the ubiquitous, dusty pink and white shrubs that "decorate" freeway medians across the land (and the blossoms are deadly poisonous, how rock and roll). Coming off at first like one of the many grunge-lite outfits whose primary modus operandi seemed to consist of saying "Long live Kurt!" in as many ways as possible, the band's first major-label foray (1999's February Son) was a churning, effective exercise in moderately polite angst. But the Nirvana comparisons proved erroneous: Unfortunately, the band sounds more like a generic (albeit pleasant) amalgamation of Stone Temple Pilots, Creed and Enuff Z' Nuff, with a soupçon of The Cure thrown in to temper the grunge prickle (the album includes a goofily inspired cover of "Boys Don't Cry," in which Flowers does indeed sound much less likely to cry than the fey, quavering Robert Smith did). Their follow-up album, Unwind, provides more guitar crunch and an occasional Beatlesque riff; "Yours If You Like" could be an updated "Dear Prudence." And there's something weirdly refreshing about a rock singer with the chutzpah to deliver the line, "Thanks...for everything you aaa-rrre" (from Unwind's "Champion," also released as a single to benefit victims of 9/11) with a poker face and unimpeachable sincerity.