Results tagged “thedoors”

OK, take a deep breath. Are you sitting down? Good. People, all the Starbucks in the country are going to be shut down for three hours on February 26th. Which, if our calculations are correct, means most of the stores in America will be closed. But don't freak out! It'll only be from 5:30PM to 8:30PM, which is well after most of us have already gotten our Starbucks fix. Also, they're only shutting the doors so they can retrain the barristas and implement new standards that will supposedly provide a better experience for customers. Translation: sales have been lagging, and Starbucks needs to find a way to stimulate growth (that's hot) and its brand. Good luck, guys! Regardless, you better be open bright and early the next morning, or the country will collapse.

We guess that your reading this means that you survived Monday. Good! We started you off slowly, and without much vigor, so let's see if we can step things up a bit tonight. We have kink, espionage, and poetry. What more could a Phillyist reader ask for?

Let us say up front that we buy into Virginia Woolf’s theory about women artists: it was/is often lack of opportunity, rather than lack of talent, that keeps the gender imbalance in the classic art canon holding steady. Controversy still abounds as to the placement and display of female artists, particularly whether it matters. If art is good, it is good, right, and will be recognized as such, regardless of gender. Would that it were so. However, in the midst of arguing why women are underrepresented in the artistic pantheons, we can sometimes lose sight of those women who managed to break through those barriers presented by societal and cultural expectations. One is the subject of an exhibition at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts: Philadelphia native Cecilia Beaux, who was once described by painter William Merritt Chase as “not only the greatest living woman painter, but the best that has ever lived.”

Tomorrow night, One Republic is playing The Trocadero. We've never heard of them, and outside of the song that automatically pops up on their MySpace page, we have no idea what their music sounds like.

If you haven’t noticed, the Philadelphia sports climate is pretty bleak these days. The Sixers suck. The Eagles are golfing. The Flyers are irrelevant. And the Phillies are currently nickel-and-diming perhaps the greatest slugger in a generation, hoping that an arbitrator will make him play for a relative pittance. So there is pretty much no reason to go to an arena or stadium near you to watch our local pituitary cases compete in the games of chance. And yet, on February 1, the lowest common denominator of our fine city will flock to the Wachovia Center. They will begin tailgating at 4 a.m. Come 6 a.m., they will enter the building, whereupon they will take their seats and longingly ogle the “Wingettes” in their bras and panties. They will buy $8 Bud Lights from the concession stands, and will be completely wasted before many of us have stepped in the shower. They will stand and cheer at fat losers as they stuff their filthy gobs with artery-clogging Buffalo wings. When the spectacle has concluded and a “winner” is announced, these fine gents, fresh from the most intimate contact they have had with a woman in eons, will file out of the doors and head straight to the nearest strip club to further sate their throbbing libidos. Bear in mind that this will probably be the most intellectual activity that these fellows will have indulged in all week. At the end of the day, they will vomit in the public common and drunkenly drive their vehicles home in a treacherous version of “Commuter Roulette.” Sound like fun? Then, by all means, head over to South Philly for the 610-WIP-sponsored Wing Bowl 16, “The Showdown in the Hot Sauce.” (To tailgate. This flimsy excuse to get wasted actually sold out a major sports arena... AGAIN.)

Ok, so we arrived at the Electric Factory around 8pm and by 8:30, Thrice had gone on. We don't know what happened to mewithoutyou, but either they went on before the doors opened or they cancelled. No matter. We've seen them before and they're unique take on song structure, frantically spoken lyrics and visceral stage performance are worth catching, but they won't get your knees buckling or anything. Thrice, on the other hand, opened with...

Every Tuesday and Thursday, we'll be posting events that are going on sale during the current week. This Thursday post only collects the latest announcements, so definitely check the Tuesday post for any you may have missed.

At some point last week, while killing a few minutes' time before going to lunch, I heard about a new establishment in Ross's neighborhood: The Belgian Café, owned by Monk's owners Tom Peters and Fergus "Fergie" Carey (also of Fergie's Pub, a Phillyist fave), in the old Tavern on the Green location at 21st and Green. We tried to head over for dinner on Saturday night, but were thwarted by the already burgeoning crowds, and decided to try our luck at brunch the next morning, after a short blurb in the Inky told us that they'd begun serving the meal over the weekend.

Happy Father's Day! For those of you who have dads, are dads, or know dads, this one's for you, from all of us at the Gothamist network.

Tonight, Theatre of the Living Arts presents Butch Walker and the Let's Go Out Tonites with The Honorary Title and Rocket starting at 9PM. We're very excited for The Honorary Title's performance because they're debuting some new tracks off of their upcoming CD, Scream and Light up the Sky, which is due out in June. Earlier this week, we had the opportunity to interview Jarrod Gorbel, the lead singer of The Honorary Title. He talked...

When Wincing the Night Away dropped last month, we lamented its winter release date. From the initial notes of the opening track, we knew it was the album of our Spring. By rights we should've been unwrapping the plastic casing joyfully and popping it into our CD player while the sun was out and our windows were open enough to let the warm air in. Whether it's the ukulele on "Australia" or the shake-your-ass bass line of "Sealegs," this album was made for that drive from our best friend's house to the nearest sidewalk cafe serving martinis on a Saturday afternoon. After playing it a few times, we saw the bright side: listening to it made us feel like the last vestiges of winter had disappeared.

Those in touch with Philly's restaurant pulse have undoubtedly heard of the Queen Village Moroccan joint . Although it's only steps from a high-traffic area of South Street, the place is almost impossible to discover accidentally, since it's buried on Leithgow Street (really an alley) and has almost nonexistent outdoor markings.

Even if you have trouble finding the entrance, your adventure is only beginning. In almost every imaginable aspect, Marrakesh provides for an extremely interesting evening. The word online is that the doors are usually locked: you'll have to knock to be admitted. (We were unable to verify this, since someone was leaving and held the doors for us as we approached). Our five-person party was greeted by the owner, with one of the warmest imaginable smiles and seated immediately at a table near the door.

is used a bit loosely here. There aren't really any tables, or chairs, in the entire restaurant. Patrons are seated on heavily-cushioned, curving couches around shiny round trays. The backs of the seats are padded by loose pillows. We found our spot to be pretty comfortable, but one person with us had a stiffer seat, and was a little uncomfortable by the end of the two-hour meal.

Once settled, we had a chance to survey the decor. The room is very dark (much more than it seems in the photos) and has a slightly red tint to the light. The yellow walls are elaborately painted in deep green Arabic writing. Although it might have been a bit of a visual assault in bright light, the walls, couches, and trays combined to create a pleasing atmosphere.

Please welcome new Phillyist author Joe Ross who, in his following inaugural post, is giving our manners maven a run for her money. Joe likes pirate mini golf and The Princess Bride, and has plans to ultimately rid the planet of zombies once and for all. The old-fashioned, slow-moving zombies, that is.

The back of the bus gets to your stop at the same time as the front - so unless you're getting off in two stops or less, move away from the doors to make room for your fellow riders. (And if you're getting off in two stops or less, maybe you should consider eschewing the bus all together. Walking is excellent for your cardiovascular health.) And while we have your ear, might we also suggest:

For those of you in town this weekend, recovered from the excess and debauchery of Thanksgiving dinner and nonplussed by the prospect of standing in line for a sold-out movie, why not come up to Northern Liberties to join the folks at Art Star as they celebrate the gallery-boutique's one-year anniversary? The joint venture of Tyler grads Erin Waxman and Megan Brewster, Art Star always provides at least a few things you didn't see last time-- or anywhere else in Philly. And the store's website promises "plenty of food, drinks, music and fun," which sounds a damn sight better than seeing Steve Martin humiliate himself in more family-friendly cinematic dreck.

Golden Republic opened and initially The Sights’ gear was set up, but their set was cancelled as well. There’s no word on a rescheduled date.
If you read Phillyist’s preview for the show yesterday and were one of the penniless few that had to scrounge for the $12 dollars to get in, the night wasn’t a total loss. North Star offers cheap beers, most notably $3 Pabst pounders. What else are you going to do on a Monday night?