We are rarely visited anymore by rock greatness. When it happens, it’s usually while decent folk slumber and usually at the Nick. Nevertheless, Saturday night at a respectable hour, for a Humane Socie

I’ve been thinking about turning off the cable again. The last time was 1988, after NBC cancelled Crime Story, arguably the greatest TV show Michael Mann ever produced. Oh, sure, Miami Vice had the

As though people weren’t cantankerous enough in August, now we have to have a health care reform debate. Actually, if the folks subsidized by the shadowy organization called Freedom Works get their wa

I see the guy sitting on Highland Avenue every day, and when I say “sitting on Highland,” I mean he’s doing practically that. He and his laptop are hunkered down parkside next to the sidewalk,

I would have bet you on Walter Cronkite surviving till Monday at least, just to beat The Reaper to the deadline for the 40th anniversary of his marathon coverage of the first manned moon landing. I wo

In the summer of ’77, Birmingham bustled with all manner of retail businesses, most of which no longer exist. In a cubbyhole of Fritz Woehle’s open-air attic on 10th Terrace South, known then as the G

Somebody said, “That’s a strange tattoo You have on the side of your head.” I said, “That’s a blue print, left by the coal Just a little more and I’d be dead.” – “

Before there was Woodstock, there was Atlanta Pop. Forty years ago this weekend, an unimaginable multitude descended upon the Peach State for a weekend of peace and music that essentially marked the b

Six-dollar beer at City Stages? Nuts. A bunch of the boys were whooping it up at the annual post-festival deconstruction, sponsored by Advil, trying to pin down the reasons why our town’s preeminen

Throughout the storied run of City Stages, countless spectators have dropped into the Music Oasis for the air conditioning only to be surprised to learn that music is being played there. It’s a natura