Stories from the February 5, 2004, Print Edition
Matt Nathanson and Gavin DeGraw, who played at the 9:30 Club together on Tuesday night, both work using a well-read rulebook, one that was written by Elton John and James Taylor and has since been read by aspiring male singer/songwriters time and time again.
Panhwa Art Studio presents: "Room Service" A FLAT presentation by Felicity Hogan featuring the digital C prints of Laura Carton This is not your grandparents' art. Nor will you find it displayed behind your guidance counselor's desk, or mounted on the wall of the local dentist.
The most recent art exhibit to open on campus was not created by "artists" at all. The contributing photographers of "In the Eyes of Students: Our Experiences Abroad," for the most part, have no photo training, and the exhibit does not even appear in an art gallery (instead, it is in 1957 E Street room 602).
He said he was going to penetrate the "salty sea" of right-wing fanatic Anne Coulter. Half the crowd gasped in awe, the other half was shocked into hysterics. It was impossible to resist: I was undoubtedly part of the latter. The reality of sitting for more than three hours and watching a very active middle-aged, muscular, tattooed man bulldoze through such topics as politics, Hollywood red carpets and, yes, Coulter's vagina, was evidence enough that I had to be unconscious and on hospital-grade medication.
"You Got Served" (Screen Gems) is worth seeing for the one-handed jumping handstands and various other dancing feats of strength, but not for much else. This hip-hop dancing movie abounds with bad acting, random cameos and, yes, good dancing. Two brothers star as best friends in this movie about small-time dancers who struggle to make it big.
After playing a few years on the indie circuit and winning over American suburbanites with his easily accessible melodies and introspective lyrics, Matt Nathanson has recently signed a major record deal and is currently on tour with Gavin DeGraw. Upon arriving at his show at the 9:30 Club Tuesday night, I was ushered upstairs to the backstage rooms, where Nathanson sat sporting a faux hawk and eating a green apple.
So, "Mr. Big," formerly known as my Georgetown alum drinking buddy, suggested that we head across the river to the "coolest bar ever that's full of hot women. "Did I mention they're all hot?" While my roommate and I didn't think the women or the men were that hot, except the cute bartender who called me sweetheart, we all agreed that the place was pretty damn cool.
Vol. 108
An Independent Student Newspaper
Serving The George Washington University Community Since 1904
