Amanda Petrusich is a Staff Writer at The New Yorker. She covers themes related to publishing and media, with a particular focus on professional sports, as well as the cultural significance of collecting rare 78rpm records, as highlighted in her book "Do Not Sell At Any Price." Her work has been featured in RealClear Education, Magzter, Realclearpolitics, LLC, WNYC, and The New Yorker.
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The polymath musician, formerly of Vampire Weekend, likes to push our idea of what a pop song can be.
Doug Berns, a.k.a. DugLust, is a Knicks nut and a modern-day Weird Al, who counts Ben Stiller among his devotees. With the team in the playoffs, he's busy.
Olivia Rodrigo’s third album charts new sonic ground for the 23-year-old pop singer, inching away from frisky, impish pop-punk and leaning more toward New Wave, with its melodic synthesizers and velvety yearning.
After my husband’s death, I had never been more pliable, tender, open, or raw. It was then that I tried E.M.D.R. therapy.
By: Marina Harss, Sheldon Pearce, Hilton Als, Amanda Petrusich, Rhoda Feng, Richard Brody
What to do this week, in New York City and beyond.
The World Cup halftime show, which also featured Justin Bieber, BTS, and Shakira, was premised on the idea that music—and celebrity—can serve as a cross-cultural panacea.
His new album, “Oh Yeah?,” marries the offline charms of nineties R. & B. with the disaffection of a life lived through a screen.
In the summer of 2022, Steve Lacy’s “Bad Habit,” a buoyant but doleful song about a missed shot—“I bite my tongue, it’s a bad habit,” he sings ruefully—started going crazy on TikTok. Lacy, who was twenty-four at the time, was previously best known as a guitarist in the Internet, a psych-R. & B. band that emerged out of the sprawling Los Angeles hip-hop group Odd Future. “Bad Habit” was an unexpected but delightful hit.
Last week, Charli XCX and the Strokes, twin pillars of a certain strain of disaffected, irony-drenched cool, each released new records that flirt
Last week, Charli XCX and the Strokes, twin pillars of a certain strain of disaffected, irony-drenched cool, each released new records that flirt with the idea of “rock music.”
