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CHRIS FARAONE
A new addition to the Phoenix staff, I grew up in Queens. I attended Hobart College in upstate New York, until I eventually graduated and moved to South Florida where I worked as a dorm-to-dorm vacation cruise salesmen and moonlighted as a stand-up comic. To sharpen my writing and further delay life, I enrolled at New School University’s Graduate Faculty, where I was the biggest dope in the program. No regrets though; it was there that I daydreamed up the counter-intellectual philosophy – which I dubbed roastmodernism© . Following some foreplay on New York’s then-burgeoning on-line literary scene, I enrolled at Boston University’s College of Communication in 2004 and I’ve been here in Boston ever since. I’ve had been published by the Boston Herald, Boston’s Weekly Dig, and Boston Magazine, Elemental, Spin, and Columbia Journalism Review, and still regularly write for The Source, Antenna, and Yellow Rat Bastard (YRB).
Latest Articles
Despite what you may think, it's not a Sandra Bullock movie
It’s tough for any self-respecting critic to refrain from joyously tackling a Sandra Bullock movie — so it’s a good thing The Blind Side isn’t one.
Battle Axe (2009)
I’m not completely sure why the mere mention of Swollen Members rubs so many underground rap snobs the wrong way.
House Party
Virtually desolate Dudley Square needed dining alternatives to deep-fried heart attacks, so in 2005, organizers with Haley House — the 43-year-old South End–based charity foundation — opened the Corner Shop Bakery Café.
The Phoenix discovers secret messages in Hollywood-connected political correspondence
Hollywood celebrities who fancy themselves pols and pundits don’t just bring impassioned everyman views to the legislative banquet.
Blak Madeen stay true on Sacred Defense
“Muslim hip-hop is not like Christian rock,” says Yusuf, the Merrimack Valley half of the Allah-inspired Boston-Lowell tag team Blak Madeen.
David Kelly boxes himself in
First-semester social-science students would wince at the overreaching metaphors in Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly’s latest Rorschach test.
Five Day Weekend (2009)
There are two ways to get intimate with Berklee-schooled track surgeon Edan’s latest throwback symphony.
Thanks to the global economic collapse, which has stalled initiated construction projects, Boston’s rat population is surging
Residents say that if you jam a leaf blower in the earth virtually anywhere in Allston, furry bottom feeders will be blown out of every crack and hole in sight and rain down like unsavory screeching meatballs. North Enders joke that something similar would happen if you detonate a Parmesan wheel in an alleyway off Hanover Street.
Brother Ali is more than just albino
The only thing less common than Brother Ali–caliber MCs are profiles that don’t credit dude as “blind” and “albino” in the first graf.
Coalmine (2009)
Bekay is that chip-shouldered scumbag from down the block whom your mom banned from the house after she caught him sodomizing your little sister’s Teddy Ruxpin.
Horrorcore salutes Ice Cube and Alice Cooper
Depraved hip-hop is the biggest thing to hit trailer-trash America since sliced meds.
Kiss and Sell Dept.
In their quest to land one of Boston’s four at-large City Council seats, the eight remaining candidates have shaken more hands and kissed more behinds than anyone probably should in swine-flu season.
. . . or undead, rather — just ask Zombie Death Squad
Depraved hip-hop is the biggest thing to hit trailer-trash America since sliced meds — and not just in redneck pockets, where rap music hardly reached before, but in suburban enclaves where acts like Twiztid and Tech N9ne sell out shows with ease.
Smooth hustler
Humble and nonchalant as ever, Warren G is cooler than Miles Davis smoking an Alaskan cucumber.
Taking on Boston’s biggest bully
The most feared man in Boston isn’t a crazy-eyed killer or a brutal street thug — he’s an elected official. Evidence? When was the last time you heard a disgruntled Boston businessperson publicly criticize Mayor Tom Menino?
Partisan politics rain down like meatballs
Five-year-olds who attend MoveOn.org rallies in between tee-ball and bath time are sure to love the new David Bowers–directed interpretation of Osamu Tezuka’s flagship character.
Brain on Drugz (2009)
Jaysaun is my best proof that Jay-Z is mediocre, as well as the first MC I play for hoodlum friends who accuse me of favoring white-boy art rap.
It's the Red Sox, stupid
You don’t need a fancy political-science degree to predict voter turnout in Boston city elections. All you need is a Red Sox postseason schedule (when applicable).
It's the Joint
Here’s a new way to tell when college kids are back in Boston: shelves at the Joint — a new Comm Ave head shop near Packard’s Corner — resemble electronic-store aisles during the Los Angeles riots.
Brick (2009)
Here’s one way to interpret the title of the debut disc from Boycott Blues: on one paw, he’s a street cat who says “fuck it” for a fast ducat; on the other, this Roxbury beast laments the residual effects that come from poisoning his people and advancing cyclical oppression in the “concrete Congo.”
