After 40 Years, Is The CMJ College Radio Chart Dead?

CMJ logoRight after 40 years the CMJ Chart – the only chart that measures college radio – could be gone forever. If true, its a blow each to college radio and to the several indie artists and labels that utilized it to launch their careers. 

cmj logoFor the final two weeks, CMJ has failed to publish its weekly college radio charts. Adam Klein of Abaculi Media, who owns CMJ  had sent and an email, obtained by Pitchfork, that the charts may well resume just before the end of last week, and would “definitely” be back this week.  But this week, an additional e mail sent out read, “There will not be charts this week and I will let you know exactly where we stand on timing ahead of the finish of the week.”

Klein, who also promised but failed to create the popular CMJ Music Marathon has not responded to comment.

Editor: If any individual desires to start an additional college radio chart, Hypebot would adore to support publish it.

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Tonight’s Finale of ‘Better Things’ Illustrates a Cultural Divide That’s Been Unfolding on Television for Years

I saw a movie final evening that felt surprisingly relevant to the election of Donald Trump. Then it occurred to me that the spectacular outcomes of this election will probably color our knowledge and interpretation of practically every single function of art from right here on in. Watching a sitcom about a white nuclear family in the suburbs, it’s difficult not to suspect they might have voted for Trump.

If you watch particular well-liked network sitcoms with regularity, the fact that Trump rode into workplace on a wave of white voters driven by worry and self-preservation shouldn’t come as a surprise. My negative reviews of what I deemed two offensive, backward-hunting new sitcoms, ABC’s American Housewife and CBS’s The Fantastic Indoors, generated a flurry of clicks and likes right here at Flavorwire.com, but millions of people watch them each and every week. The disconnect has been staring us correct in the face, but we just sigh and change the channel.

In the wake of Trump’s election, a show like FX’s Much better Items, which ends its initial season tonight with an episode referred to as “Only Ladies Bleed,” looks positively radical in its depiction of single operating mother Sam (Pamela Adlon, who designed the series with Louis C.K.), an actor and voiceover artist who wears a uniform of baggy jeans and t-shirts and whose 3 daughters have unisex names. Tonight’s finale, which focuses on Sam’s androgynous middle daughter, Frankie (Hannah Alligood), is a especially vivid illustration of the vast divide amongst the sort of cookie-cutter family members life so frequently glimpsed on network television and the shaggier, thornier vision of domesticity you see on niche-ier cable and streaming series.

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From the first scene of Much better Factors’ first episode, it’s clear we’re far from standard sitcom territory. Sam sits quietly on a mall bench even though her youngest daughter, Duke (Olivia Edward), sobs. When the prim older lady sitting on the other finish of the bench glances more than disapprovingly, Sam bluntly shuts her down: “Do you want to purchase her the earrings?”

What’s most striking about this introductory scene is Duke’s outfit. She’s about eight years old, with long, unkempt hair, and she wears a pair of men’s slacks that appear about two sizes as well big, paired with a collared shirt below a sweater vest. It’s a strikingly androgynous appear for a tiny girl on a half-hour comedy, and what’s more, it’s never the subject of explicit comment. Rather, visual cues indicate that in the world of Greater Factors, this is normal. Sam herself by no means wears a skirt or a dress she usually wears jeans and a leather jacket or blazer. As a single mom, she’s the man of the home.

Much better Things frequently utilizes clothing to illustrate how clothing affects our perception of individuals — particularly ladies — and the different roles they play. Sam’s oldest, Max (the beautiful Mikey Madison), a tetchy teen, wears midriff-bearing crop tops and outfits that show off her cleavage and her lengthy legs. In one particular episode, when she admits to anxiousness more than her future, Sam takes her shopping and insists she try on a black suit. “You know those men and women that you see each day that look like they have their shit collectively and they produced all the proper selections and how not possible it appears just to get to that place?” Sam says, turning Max toward the mirror. “Well, appear. Look at you. You look like 1 of those people. And all they did was place on the garments.”

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Sam’s middle daughter, Frankie, keeps her hair quick and dresses exclusively in boy’s clothes: baggy t-shirts, old-man sweaters, loose-fitting jeans. In tonight’s finale, Frankie is sent property from school for employing the boy’s bathroom.

Earlier episodes hinted at this conflict. In the sixth episode, “Alarms,” Sam takes the girls buying, and Frankie comes out of the changing room with a dress crumpled in a single hand, refusing to wear it for her mother. In that very same episode, a single of the season’s best, Sam tapes a sitcom pilot, the sort that depicts a white, nuclear family squabbling adorably in their brightly-lit kitchen. (The set resembles the 1 utilised in Fortunate Louie, Louis C.K.’s 1-season HBO comedy that predates Louie and that stars C.K. and Adlon as a couple raising a daughter in their New York City apartment. That show functioned as a critique of the network sitcom in a related but a lot a lot more explicit or “meta” way than Much better Items.)

Here, the contrast amongst the brightly lit, cookie-cutter kitchen set and Sam’s shambolic house complete of mismatched furnishings and funky art is stark. Her sitcom daughter is styled like a clichéd “angry teen,” with a short, plaid skirt and black lipstick. Her “husband” enters (“Good morning, family”), wearing khakis and a blue button-down, and provides her a kiss. Sam tells him their teenage son will not take his lunch to school, and he slugs him playfully on the arm and says, “That’s my boy. Don’t consume your lunch, eat the other guy’s lunch, am I correct?”

Lots of Television comedies — too several, you could argue — take place in Hollywood or some other corner of the entertainment sector. But Greater Issues’ use of this setting goes beyond the common critique of Hollywood phoniness, gesturing toward the difference among what “normal” appears like on a sitcom versus in true life — where every little thing looks so much a lot more varied and unusual and individualized, and where troubles can’t be solved with a kiss on the cheek and a brown-bag lunch.

Critics have been praising groundbreaking, taboo-slashing, progressive series like Better Factors for years, as the proliferation of streaming web sites and cable channels has resulted in an outpouring of creativity and innovation on Tv. And but it turns out a lot of Americans are just fine, thanks, with the type of ordered domesticity that you see on so numerous network sitcoms — a vision of household life many others see as hopelessly archaic.

“I suck as a daughter and I suck as a mom,” Sam laments in tonight’s finale. Better Items is about the roles girls play, and how we are forever failing to reside up to expectations set many, a lot of years ago but that have confirmed maddeningly difficult to challenge.

The season finale of Greater Factors airs tonight at ten p.m. on FX.

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‘Absolutely Fabulous: The Movie’: Soon after All These Years, As Funny and Vicious As Ever

You know you are in America when you’re the one laughing hysterically throughout the Completely Fabulous film, and performing so in a largely silent theater. The charms of Edina and Patsy have never quite translated across the Atlantic — portion of this is due to both the series and this long-awaited film draw heavily upon British cultural references, but also due to the fact the nature of Ab Fab‘s comedy is one thing that is never been commonplace on this side of the Atlantic.

Even in relatively sanitized type — this film appears like everybody involved had a blast producing it, and it’s much more like a celebration to which absolutely everyone remotely linked with the Tv show more than the years was invited than something else — Ab Fab is vicious. If American comedies are dark, they’re self-consciously so  shows like It is Always Sunny in Philadelphia may possibly as properly have “OMG Look HOW DARK THIS IS” plastered across the prime of the screen throughout the episode. The protagonists are antiheroines in that, taken objectively, they’re fairly awful people — Edina is a terrible mother, Patsy is fundamentally terrible in each and every respect, and both of them are avatars of a topic that the show ridicules mercilessly, i.e. boomer consumerism of the assortment that masks itself in wellness and yoga and all such things.

Taken in isolation, the interactions in between Patsy and Edina’s permasquare daughter Saffron are strikingly nasty — this interchange, for instance, would In no way appear on US Television, no matter how “dark” the comedy in question fancied itself as becoming:

Even in this film, the Saffy/Patsy war continues, with Patsy reprising her classic “Oh, you little bitch troll from hell!” line near the end of the movie. This comes after Edina has accidentally killed Kate Moss by pushing her into the Thames even though vying with a fellow publicist for her interest, and subsequently fled to France, Patsy and Saffy’s non-square daughter Lola in tow, exactly where they hole up in a fancy resort by dressing Patsy up as a man and marrying her off to an ancient and really wealthy dowager baroness. It is nonsense, of course, but it’s not really the point — as ever, Ab Fab remains an exercising in character study, and its characters stay as compelling as they are funny.

And, despite it all, they also stay immensely likable. Ab Fab wouldn’t operate if the viewer wound up hating Eddy and Patsy, and part of the show’s genius is that you end up rooting for the duo in spite of how hilariously ghastly they can be. At Elle, our former Editor-in-Chief Judy Berman suggests that Ab Fab‘s closest US relative is Broad City, whose characters, especially Ilana, can be destructive, but in no way malicious. So it goes with Ab Fab, really — despite her awful mothering skills, Eddy does enjoy her daughter, and Patsy really does enjoy Eddy, and so on.

And in each situations, the protagonists’ messiness is just an aspect of their characters, not their defining function. Abbi and Ilana drink and smoke dope and finish up in the occasional compromising circumstance due to the fact that’s what mid-20s girls do their penchant for undertaking those items isn’t the be-all and end-all of the characters. Similarly, Eddie and Patsy’s legendary appetite for Stoli, Bolli and something else they can lay their hands on is best since it fits their characters down to a tee they’re defiantly and desperately hedonistic due to the fact that is what ageing hippies fighting off the inexorable march of reality are like.

In this respect, they’re spot-on satires of capitalism and consumerism. (It is hardly an accident that satirizing boomers and satirizing capitalism go collectively like the proverbial horse and carriage.) Eddy and Patsy have defined their lives by their pursuit of the ephemeral and the fundamentally pointless, by continuous and conspicuous consumption of the sort that’s like filling up on candy — it’s satisfying for a moment, and shortly following you feel empty. This is a realization to which Eddy eventually comes (as she and Patsy sit in a vehicle that’s sinking slowly into a swimming pool) — but, crucially, a single that she’s pleased to discard when it transpires that Kate Moss is in fact not dead, she is no longer Britain’s most hated lady, and she can go back to London and preserve doing what she’s usually completed. Plus ça alter, and all that.

Oh, and a special shout-out to the outfits worn by Eddy’s wonderfully daffy PA Bubble, which have lengthy been a highlight of the show, and which do not disappoint here. Our preferred is a coin toss among a hashtag… point, to which I’ll have to link simply because otherwise we’ll get in problems, and this ensemble:

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Anyway, if you have loved the Ab Fab Television show more than the years, go see the film. If not, you may find your self like the 50-anything critic in the seat subsequent to Flavorwire at the press screening, who sat largely stony-faced throughout the film and whispered loudly to his companion at a single point that “There are jokes, but I do not get them.” Don’t be that guy. You are missing out on a great deal.

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