Michael Tedder

"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.

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.

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.

What happens when comedy's biggest loser finally starts winning?​

I got married a few years ago. As part of my bachelor party, my kind and thoughtful friends paraded me around the Williamsburg, Brooklyn area — where at the time I lived, and which since 2000 has had the reputation of being the epicenter of the American hipster — while wearing the following lovingly assembled uniform that my friends had gone to great length to purchase from eBay: camouflage parachute pants with tiny America flags emblazoned upon them; a baseball cap sporting the Black Eyed Peas logo; and, the piece de resistance, a 2009 Nickelback tour T-shirt.

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.

There's a small plastic turtle on the dashboard of Cayetana's old blue van. Her name is Tracy. She wears red glasses and does a little side-to-side dance. The van's name is "Fast Car," after the Tracy Chapman hit that the band cranks every time they head out to the next...

While growing up in the small Texas town of Temple, the man who wrote “Don’t Make Me a Target” often felt like had a bullseye on his back.

At the beginning of 1991, the Replacements were in a bad place. The beloved Midwestern punks were weathering a mixed reception for their most recent album All Shook Down, they had recently fired drummer Chris Mars and were in the protracted process of breaking up.

For a very brief moment, Stephen Malkmus is spooning me.

Spend any amount of time with Patrick Stickles, and you will often feel like you are in a movie where the voice-over narration, provided by Patrick Stickles, and the commentary track, also provided by Patrick Stickles, are playing at the same time.
It’s a gray January afternoon, and I’ve “crossed the threshold,” in his words, into the Queens apartment of the Titus Andronicus singer, guitarist, and creative force. Before I sit on his makeshift couch (which once served as the backseat of his fi...

Lily Allen didn’t like her last album. She says this and squeaks out a burst of nervous rat-a-tat-tat laughter.

Though they spent the later half of the ’00s as one of the archetypical examples of, as it were, “the Brooklyn Scene,” the members of the National all originally hail from Cincinnati, Ohio, and have always carried themselves as Midwestern underdogs, relative to their buzz...

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In an early scene in her new movie, Mr. Roosevelt, Noël Wells’s frustrated comedian, Emily Martin, auditions for a gig with a Holly Hunter impression. The pantomime is meant to be broad and a bit awkward, as Wells’s character is still finding her comedic voice. But Wells captures Hunter’s wildfire, Southern pugnaciousness with an eerie precision. It’s a callback to Wells’s past professional life: On her debut episode of Saturday Night Live, she introduced hers...