The Star's critic MARIA DUARTE reviews Sebastian, Four Mothers, Restless, and The Most Precious of Cargoes
Latest editorial
Bob’s grebo afterlife
JAMES WALSH enthuses over the evidence that the tunes are even better after the unstoppable sex machine
Jim bob
JOHN GREEN explores the argument that psychiatry needs to move away from the idea of just seeing and treating the individual
SYLVIA HIKINS applauds a polemic against “cleanfluencers” and considers radical alternatives to current inequalities of housework
RUTH AYLETT admires the blunt honesty with which a woman’s experience is recorded, but detects the unexamined privilege that underlies it
IAN SINCLAIR draws attention to the powerful role that literature plays in foreseeing the way humanity will deal with climate crisis
High quality pulp, rollicking online murders, Abnorman Britain, and high skates drama: reviews of The Get Off, Everyone In The Group Chat Dies, Pagans and First To Fall
DENNIS BROE notes what happens to content when the streaming giants incorporate AI and deregulation into their economic models
Jim Bob
Chalk, Brighton
Jim Bob, former Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine frontman and professional rabble rouser, is on stage in sunglasses and a particularly sparkly jacket.
This is a rearranged gig from the summer, postponed when the hotel next to the venue burned down just before showtime. The singer addresses the walrus in the room: “We were gonna come on to We Didn’t Start The Fire. We didn’t, but it’s important that you know we thought about it.”
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