Keller Williams is a Renaissance man for the digital age. Sunday he brings his controlled chaos to the Charlottesville Pavilion. Keller's stage generally has seven or so guitars and other assorted instruments, as if the band forgot about the gig.
Normally when I die only 10 minutes into a game, it's not something I tell others about -- it hurts my pride.
Although she conceals it with makeup, Jean's cheek, stained with a violet bruise, is as battered as her heart.
Imagine combining the supernatural aura of Ghost with the masked desire of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.
You've heard of French fusion, nouveau French, French-influenced cuisine, but what about French-French?
It's a sad fact that most good relationships go bad; people change, you change, but what happens after the end?
"The Boy Who Cried Wolf" remains one of Aesop's most lasting fables. The simple tale of a shepherd with a lying streak teaches us the dangers of carrying a lie too far.
My iPod's dead, my CDs are all scratched and I haven't quite caught onto the satellite radio craze.
If Alfred Hitchcock were alive today he would cover his pudgy face in despair and disappointment upon witnessing the present state of American horror films.
Try as I might to muster an "academic" theater review for Live Arts' recent production of Noises Off, I think doing so would be misleading.
I've never taken drugs. Growing up, I thought Mary Jane was a girl in my school who I'd just never met.
Salman Rushdie's mesmerizing new novel, Shalimar the Clown, opens with a barbaric, public murder.
Sure, it appears enigmatic, minimalist, even pretentious at first. Sigur Rós' new album, Takk
No more than 15 minutes off Grounds lies a mystical land beyond your wildest dreams. It is a land of glorious scenery, colorful yet friendly characters and grapes.
In a movie that co-stars the shapely Bridget Moynahan and Tiger Beat mainstay Jared Leto, you wouldn't expect the sexiest thing onscreen to be an AK-47 assault rifle.
Stories never end, they are just abandoned. Nor do they start; only conveniently begun. So when a story is over, we forget it like we would an empty soda can.
With sales of recently-released Plans soaring, Seattle's best-kept little indie secret no longer believes that "instincts are misleading." Death Cab for Cutie's explosion into the mainstream (and onto the sets of The O.C.) has taken them on a continuous rollercoaster ride, one that they're not looking to get off anytime soon.
Due to a flood of insistent e-mails (well, two, and one of them was pretty apathetic), I have decided to make a few changes to this column.
Film director and Charlottesville native Jeff Wadlow will return to his hometown this weekend to screen his first feature-length film, Cry Wolf.
Sept. 3 marked the grand opening of White Orchid, a welcome addition to Charlottesville's small pool of Vietnamese eateries.
