Vancouver Magazine
Beijing Mansion Hosts Chinese Restaurant Awards New Wave 2023 Dinner
A Guide to the City’s Best Omakase
5 Croissants to Try at the 2023 Vancouver Croissant Crawl
The Best Drinks to Bring to a Holiday Party (and Their Zero-Proof Alternatives)
The Wine List: 6 Wines for Every Holiday Wine Drinker on Your List
Nightcap: Spiked Horchata
5 Things to Do in Vancouver This Week (December 4-10)
Protected: Your dream smile, just in time for wedding season
5 Things to Do in Vancouver This Week (November 27-December 3)
Escape to Osoyoos: Your Winter Wonderland Awaits
Your 2023/2024 Ultimate Local Winter Getaway Guide
Kamloops Unscripted: The Most Intriguing Fall Destination of 2023
2023 Gift Guide: 8 Gorgeous Gifts from Vancouver Jewellery Designers
Local Gift Guide 2023: For Everyone on Your Holiday Shopping List
Local Gift Guide 2023: For the Pets
Slick, celebratory, and largely indifferent to the past, 1980s pop music was a triumph of the freaks and the futurists over older generations’ notions of “good music.” Most of the subversives who made it, though, are now passing through the exit door of middle age. Still, the mirage of eternal youth is never so lifelike as in the arena of pop: many ’80s heroes can still be found on the road. Madonna embodied the aspirational, hypersexual tenor of the times that made her a star. The cool reception to her latest album, MDNA, suggests that, at 54, she might benefit from giving up trying to act like singers half her age. But a legend is a legend, which is why she can confidently settle in for two nights at Rogers Arena (Sept. 29 and 30).
When the Red Hot Chili Peppers emerged from L.A. in 1983, wearing nothing but a tube sock per and playing a white fratboy notion of funk, few would have earmarked them for the long haul. Yet here they are, 10 albums deep and recent inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Their shirtlessness is increasingly ill-advised, but last year’s I’m With You ensures their stadium-filling status for the moment (Rogers Arena, Nov. 17).
Since the break-up of new wave pioneers Talking Heads in 1991, founder and frontman David Byrne seems to have made it his mission to confound expectations. September sees the release of Love This Giant, a collaboration with a similarly uncompromising – although, at 30, markedly younger – artist, singer-songwriter St. Vincent. The pair bring their combined weirdness to the Centre for Performing Arts (Oct. 20).