Can pop artists save labels unable to live on concertos alone?
A singer-songwriter with black clothes, orange hair, and tattoos sat hunched over his electric piano recently on the stage at Johnny D's, a nightclub in Somerville. He played poetic anthems to vulnerability, a dark ditty about suffocating under cellophane, and one gently soaring meditation on the sound his heart makes when it hits the ground. (Full Article: 1502 Words)
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