The new documentary “David Crosby: Remember My Name” finds its subject in fine voice. A graying walrus of a man who favors knitted skullcaps and blue jeans held up with suspenders, he is a prodigious and
Johnny Clegg, a British-born South African singer, songwriter and guitarist whose fusion of Western and African influences found an international audience and stood as an emblem of resistance to the apartheid
Sex, on first blush, seems to be the subject of the nine life-size paintings that make up Eric Fischl’s show “Complications From an Already Unfulfilled Life” at the Sprüth Magers gallery in Mid-Wilshire
By all rights, David Crosby should’ve died sometime in the 1980s. From his emergence in the mid-’60s as a guitarist and vocalist for The Byrds to his stadium-filling days as part of the supergroup Crosby,
Jim Clash: When did you discover that you could sing? Eric Burdon: They tell me I was born shouting the blues. I know that I was kicked out of the school choir because my voice was drowning out the others.
To appreciate the cultural impact of Peter Weir’s 1989 coming-of-age classic, Dead Poets Society, one need only note that for a whole generation the line “O Captain! My Captain!” evokes not the poem from