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It is truly 'N credible that 'N Sync manages to attract the 'N terest of millions. If the little teeny-bopper 'N fidels had any sense, they'd ignore 'N Sync altogether and be die-hard Backstreet Boys fans. The fact is, the Backstreet Boys make 'N Sync look like walking scrambled eggs when it comes to appearance.
There is an expansive list of semi-star rock bands popular enough to keep selling records until their lead singer overdoses, but not popular enough to stamp their group's logo on the forehead of the American music visage.
Daytime television may not provide emulation-worthy acting, but the scandalous plots realized everyday between the 11 o'clock edition of Sportscenter and the first edition of the evening news can be found in the music world as well. Treat yourself to this saga: Man produces child with woman (Billy Corgan produces Hole's album, "Celebrity Skin," with Courtney Love); woman publicly slanders man, saying the child is not his (Love publicly slanders Corgan, saying he did not do nearly as much work on "Celebrity Skin" as he claims to have done); man breaks ties with woman and goes after woman's best friend (Corgan breaks ties with Love and lures Hole bassist Melissa Auf De Mer into the Smashing Pumpkins). It's textbook soap opera, exactly what Corgan and the Pumpkins needed to reclaim their past glory after the ill-fated "Adore," the band's 1998 release which, despite its ambition, continues to be shunned by critics and Pumpkins fans alike.
Death does unto many musicians what most musicians hope of their first demo tape -- it makes them famous.
American club culture still is brandishing its fake ID to get through the doors of electronica. Fortunately, for a nation with a double-digit musical IQ, there is a saving grace: Europe, home of romance languages, political coups and intelligent music. By night, beautiful beats bang out of streetside saloons from Sussex to Ibiza, and by day scores of Brits and Parisians immerse themselves in techno, big-beat, ambient and drum-and-bass for the sole reason that electronic music is radically thoughtful and brilliant.
The American pop culture dictionary is an expansive text, one that is ambiguous and imaginary and must be changed each day.
Drag queens, Michael Jordan and Rage Against the Machine all share a common distinction -- they are masters of the crossover. With "The Battle of Los Angeles," Rage reclaims its place atop the rap-rock food chain, demonstrating what hardcore and hip-hop should sound like when jettisoned from the same speaker. Tom Morello, whose bluesy guitar assault sounds like Jimi Hendrix live from the Garbage Disposal, and Zack De La Rocha, the lead vocalist who could rejuvenate the Wu-Tang Clan if he didn't scream so damn well, propel the passionate quartet to its latest aural treasure. The album is a virtual clone of the band's first two efforts, "Rage Against the Machine" and "Evil Empire," just as the second record was a mirror of the first.
The Counting Crows are cursed. Cursed worse than the Montagues and the Capulets, cursed worse than any pathetic Bill Buckner-hating Boston Red Sox fan.
Heroin has become to Scott Weiland what the Stone Temple Pilots' new album, "No. 4," will soon become to every rock and roll CD collection - a sheer necessity. But somehow, between subpoenas, hearings and arraignments, the smack-addicted lead singer, along with guitarist Dean DeLeo, bassist Robert DeLeo and drummer Eric Kretz, managed to lay down enough material to complete the album before his trip to the sin bin.
