Michael Tedder

All Gareth David wanted to do was find a few friends. And if they were into indie rock, so much the better. He had just enrolled at Cardiff University, and he didn’t know anyone at all. Fortunately, he had just discovered Myspace right before heading out to university.

"I wrote this song 14 years ago,” says Ted Leo, gazing at his tiny audience. “There would be nights that I would look at the setlist and think, ‘I can’t believe I have to do this fucking song again.'” He grimaces. “And then I do, and I think, ‘I’m glad I kept it on the set list.'”

On November 9, while you were nursing your Election Day hangover, Elisabeth Moss was up at 6:00 a.m. to shoot an episode of The Handmaid's Tale, Hulu's dystopian—and eerily prescient—fable of patriarchy run rampant, and one of the most anticipated TV events of the year.

Stan Lee, legendary comic writer and co-creator of iconic Marvel superheroes such as Spider-Man, X-Men, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk, is a spry 94 years old, and he’s still trying to outdo himself career-wise.

It’s hard work, being silly. Just ask Matt Berry.

If the year had gone according to plan, she’d be calling from a green room somewhere in America.

It’s the day after Super Tuesday, and one of America’s leading young socialist thinkers is having a “horrible sense of déjà vu.”

It had been a tough couple of years for Chris Elliott and Adam Resnick when they sat down at the Fox office. As far as they knew, no one even watched their show, Get a Life. But, somehow, the meeting went better than expected.

In the summer of 2015, a few days after the Supreme Court made legal same-sex marriage the law of the land, the ever-progressive David Byrne hosted an event called “Contemporary Color” at Brooklyn’s Barclays Center.

Kaitlyn Dever wanted to make a lasting impression.

Welcome to 2020, where life is a Justin Timberlake album most don’t like anymore and hindsight is all the rage. We are at the start of a new decade, and it must be noted that beginnings are important. They are a time to take a minute and reflect on where we’ve been, so we can learn from the past as we soldier ever boldly into the future. It’s also a keen opportunity to clown on the Grammys for (almost) never getting it right.

We come here today to praise brevity, concision and getting to the point already. So in the spirit of this enterprise, let us dispense with any further preamble and get right to the point: in this age of streaming-service bloat and seemingly endless albums, artists need to remember that the platonic ideal for a release is eight songs.

It’s a frigid Saturday night in mid-March, and some of the most popular and beloved figures to ever emerge from the Boston alternative rock music scene — including Belly, Juliana Hatfield, Lemonheads frontman Evan Dando, and Buffalo Tom’s Bill Janovitz — are all under the same roof for the first time in decades to play a fundraiser for the American Civil Liberties Union.

The Stranger Things breakout opens up (and hops in the tub) on the eve of his first—and certainly not last—stint as a mainstream leading man

George Clooney makes consummate cool look easy, which is a testament to his acting ability: Being a movie star is really, really hard.