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  • Village Voice

    The Great Walls of Chinatown

    With the exception of the electric rice cookers, this Bowery tenement could have come straight from the Nineteenth Century.

    By Elizabeth Dwoskin

  • Houston Press

    Getting Off

    DUI attorney Tyler Flood wins 80 percent of his trials--even if his clients were 100 percent drunk.

    By Mike Giglio

  • Miami New Times

    Park or Die Tryin'

    From the homeless parking mafia to the meter fairy, finding a spot in Miami has taken a turn toward the surreal.

    By Gus Garcia-Roberts

  • City Pages

    The Baddest Men on the Planet

    Straight from the Sam's Club tire shop, Brett Rogers prepares to meet Fedor Emelianenko in mortal combat.

    By Bradley Campbell

White No Lie

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By Hiya Swanhuyser

Published on January 13, 2009 at 4:22am

She shows up on radio playlists next to Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter. People constantly, incessantly compare her voice to Chan Marshall's. Her songwriting reminds us of the cryptic imagery of Neko Case's weird storytelling, and we're pretty sure Belle and Sebastian had something to do with it. But Emily Jane White's music needs no introduction, really. For years now, we've watched people seeing her live for the first time. Even those who don't like country music, or don't usually listen to women with acoustic guitars, or just don't know who she is -- no matter. They're slayed. They go buy Dark Undercoat, they learn to play guitar, just so they can fuck up "Bessie Smith" in the privacy of their own homes. They're happy.
Sat., Jan. 17, 9 p.m., 2009