The belle of Yeovil, England, Polly Jean Harvey emerged from the English hinterlands a 98-pound blueswoman with a 200-pound voice. She wore beatnik black and comfortable shoes and fronted a spare, thrashy rock band like the journeyman guitarist she easily could have been. Last time through New York, though, Harvey went femme (sort of), in shocking eyeliner and a sheath-like cocktail skirt, singing the incendiary songs off To Bring You My Love like an avenging diva. While it might have read as do-me feminism from lesser figures, Harvey managed to make these vampisms ambiguous and otherworldly, while her voice—deep, throaty, unbelievably powerful—often threatened to break glass. She also happened to give one of the best rock shows of the year.
i think my favorite thing about the incessant Ouija movie ads is their tag #Planchette
So I read Death Of Wolverine 1-4 by Charles Soule and Steve McNiven. (SPOILERS: Wolverine dies!) (You have to do that joke.) (There are actual spoilers in this post tho) It had two jobs, and did one of them exactly as fans - I’m guessing - might hope, and one maybe not.
The expected one was to do a Wolverine Greatest Hits EP - lone Canadian wild man; Madripoor hustler; Samurai; military experiment. Noticeably these are all solo Wolverine hits, none of the stuff he did with his band gets in. It’s a determined recap and tying off of the barnacled mythology around Wolverine the series-carrying star, which has the effect of reminding you that a) there aren’t THAT many kinds of Wolverine story, b) the kinds there are are all quite different from one another and c) none of them have ever really fixed themselves as the dominant type of solo Wolverine story. Wolverine is a tough guy you pour genre into.