First Big Ten road win still elusive for IU Hoosiers
After Sunday's overtime win against Northwestern at Assembly Hall, junior guard Jenny DeMuth said she was dissatisfied.
After Sunday's overtime win against Northwestern at Assembly Hall, junior guard Jenny DeMuth said she was dissatisfied.
In the middle of his senior year, former IU quarterback Antwaan Randle El had no clue where his football career would take him after he graduated. Two years later, Randle El stood in the middle of Assembly Hall holding up a framed No. 11 jersey in front of thousands of screaming fans.
It's no secret the success of the IU women's tennis team has been the result of grueling off-season training and the consistency and depth from new talent. But leading the charge for the squad this spring stems from the trio of seniors who lead the team into Big Ten action.
Six years ago, Josh Thurston was a 21-year-old repo man working for American Rental in rural Washington, Ind. His father, an employee at the Crane Naval Surface Warfare Center near Bloomington, was a seasoned rock climber with nowhere nearby to hone his skills scaling rocks.
According to Webster's Dictionary a lotus plant was fabled in the ancient world "to induce a dreamy languor and forgetfulness." Like the plant, the band Lotus hopes to create a sound that will make its listeners forget about the basic music they are used to, and never want to settle for it again. Blending styles such as electronica, improvisational rock and funk, the music of Lotus is definitely not your typical Phish-esque jam session. Lotus has just embarked on their first major coast-to-coast tour, and will be stopping at Uncle Fester's on Tuesday, Jan. 27.
There's an epidemic on TV, inhabiting more and more households across the land. It's making viewers dumber, and making the networks tons of money, while exploiting hundreds of people thirsty for fame.
Sweat stung my eyes as I stood at Albert King's grave. The summer heat in Edmondson, Ark., was starting to take its toll on me. After criss-crossing Paradise Gardens Cemetery for nearly an hour in the stifling Delta humidity, my face and brain were baking. I needed something to drink.
Swimming Pool is supposed to be a psychological thriller, but it plays out like a third- or fourth-rate Hitchcock knock-off. It's frustratingly shallow, surprisingly conceited and gratuitously un-erotic, contrary to what it'd have you believe with Ludivine Sagnier sprawled out in a skimpy bikini on the DVD's cover.
Beware. Your worst childhood nightmare has come true: Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) and Jason Voorhees (Ken Kirzinger, stepping in for Kane Hodder) have finally teamed up.
Over the course of the first 10 episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," Larry David manages to offend everyone from Ted Danson to an Incest survivors group. In his first major project since being co-creator of the '90s best sitcom, "Seinfeld," Larry David again revels in the minutia of daily life. David plays himself on the show, living in Los Angeles, presumably off his "Seinfeld" money. He does occasional work as a writer and stand-up comic, but more or less this is the diary of a permanent pessimist with too much time and money on his hands.
NFL Street is a 7-on-7 arcade-style experience that celebrates laterals, hard hits and some strategy in order to create high-adrenaline match-ups featuring your favorite NFL stars on beaches and backyards. All seven players play both offense and defense, which adds a lot of strategy to a surprisingly deep game.
At its inception, the blues was usually about the individual. Whether it was Blind Lemon Jefferson with his guitar or Ma Rainey in the Harlem spotlight, the blues, at least in the beginning, was a solo effort.
The Crystal Method came onto the electronica scene in the mid-to-late '90s as America's response to England's infinitely superior the Chemical Brothers. Seven years have passed since the duo, comprised of Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland, dropped its debut, Vegas (the city from which they both hail) -- nothing has changed.
Phantom Planet is back, and you hardly knew they were here; that is, unless you watch "The O.C.," for which they provide the nauseatingly catchy theme song. If you dig deeper, you would find a band that relies on little more than a near-celebrity drummer (Jason Schwartzman), the already risen tide of new rock and a chorus consisting of an endlessly repeated warning to California (namely, "Here we come," which is odd because they're from L.A.). This, their third album, improves on the weaknesses while still retaining that anonymous flavor just like Candlebox and Seven Mary Three did in times of grunge.
Ani DiFranco's newest release Educated Guess is amazing in the way a country church might be beautiful -- its austereness amplifies the beauty of the material. Simple, stripped-down and fresh, DiFranco's latest is a mature reflection on love and life's trials and tribulations.
Torque is a tough movie to review. By calling it a movie I'm already giving this rubbish too much credit. Though, it's certainly entertaining rubbish. As directed by Joseph Kahn, who cut his teeth lensing videos for acts as diverse as U2 and Eminem, Torque plays out as an hour and a half exercise in MTV-style quick cutting and crass commercialism. Product placement has never been this blatant -- biker chicks fight before Mountain Dew and Pepsi banners and every character drinks beer, that is, so long as it's Budweiser.
They are the ruthless ones, the ones that revel in their own inspired grotesqueness. They are the ones that actually have a pair and aren't afraid to slap you in the face with them. They are the ones whispered in cryptic corners between your co-workers, the ones about dead babies and airplanes plunging into towers. They are jokes with a wicked sense of humor. Dark comedy is a carefully crafted witches' brew that, when served correctly, has the ability to strip us down to the nasty little demons we all harbor inside, self-righteous objections coming from the peeled lips of a curdling smile.
When big celebrities convene in one film, expectations are high. With all the unbridled star power busting through it's hard not to expect something grandiose and amazing. Take Along Came Polly for example -- you've got Ben Stiller, a comedic giant; Jennifer Aniston, favorite of the "Friends;" Philip Seymour Hoffman, a Paul Thomas Anderson favorite; not to mention Hank Azaria, Debra Messing and Alec Baldwin. This should be the formula for success. However, Along Came Polly falls short of fantastic and settles for cute.
Eleanor Lambert, first lady and patron of the fashion industry, was known for her keen ability to turn any event into a fashionable affair.
In the 1980s, Pillsbury tried to reach a different audience when it featured a commercial in which a 'ghettoed out' Doughboy wore dark glasses and rhymed about pie crust. "It's a pie thing," rapped the high-pitched pastry icon. The audience didn't buy it, and the Doughboy dropped the rapping gig and went back to his trademark giggle. This style of ineffective, hip-hop-influenced commercials reappeared a decade later when M.C. Hammer pointed to a Pepsi and sang, "U Can't Touch This." But despite these early failures, hip-hop's popularity soared as groups like Run-DMC and the Beastie Boys reached gold-figure sales in the rap industry.