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Articles by Hugo Lindgren
Change Your Life. Start a Band.
We crave connection. We crave community. You should start by recruiting a drummer.
Change Your Life. Start a Band. Original
Opinion|Change Your Life. Start a Band. https://www.nytimes.com/2026/03/22/opinion/band-music-community.html You have a preview view of this article while we are checking your access. When we have confirmed access, the full article content will load. Guest Essay March 22, 2026, 1:00 a.m. ET In the spring of 1982, six friends got together in an East Village apartment to start a country-punk band. They had a guitar, a bass and some sticks and spoons to bang on.
Can Max Greyserman Achieve Golf Greatness by Thinking Like a Wall Street Trader? Original
You have been granted access, use your keyboard to continue reading. Credit...Illustration by Obby&Jappari Supported by SKIP ADVERTISEMENT Listen to this article · 21:48 min Learn more Jan. 23, 2026 Early last year, when we were walking Pebble Beach on a wet, windy day and watching his son Max play in a PGA tournament, Alex Greyserman burst into an impassioned discourse on the strategy of “pulling the goalie” in hockey — replacing him with an extra skater when you’re behind late in a game.
How artists saved New York
Don’t even think about Brooklyn.
The 18-Year Wait for New Wrens Music Is Over. Sort Of.
The New Jersey indie rockers promised a final album. Their day jobs and families have expanded, but the band’s two creative forces kept writing — separately. Kevin Whelan is releasing some of the songs he wrote for the Wrens’ final album under the name Aeon Station.Credit...Ben Rayner for The New York Times Sept. 20, 2021 How do you know it’s time to pull the plug on the band you started as a teenager? Is it when you get married and have kids and buy a house in the deep New Jersey ’burbs?
Remembering Michael Sorkin Through ‘Exquisite Corpse’
Michael Sorkin in 2005. Photo: Fairfax Media via Getty Images If you’re ever lucky enough to spot a copy of Exquisite Corpse in a used-book bin or gathering dust on somebody’s shelf, snatch it. The author, Michael Sorkin, was the architecture critic for the Village Voice in the 1980s, and the book collects his greatest hits from that tenure.
Jackals: How to Survive In the Underworld of Professional Basketball
This story originally appeared in Victory Journal’s December 2020 issue with the title “Jackals.” On Thursday, July 11, 2019, without a dollar in his pocket, Anthony Estes flew from Charlotte to Las Vegas for a basketball tryout.
Peter Guralnick Talks About His Obsession With the Blues, the Real Meaning of Country Music, and Selling His Record Collection
Peter Guralnick’s new book Looking to Get Lost: Adventures in Music and Life is a slow read — slow because it’s impossible not to keep stopping and listening to music. As good a writer as Guralnick is, he would be the first to argue that there is no substitute for listening. After reading his essay on Skip James, I lost a solid two hours on Spotify.
Peter Guralnick Talks About His Obsession With the Blues, the Real Meaning of Country Music, and Selling His Record Collection
Peter Guralnick’s new book Looking to Get Lost: Adventures in Music and Life is a slow read — slow because it’s impossible not to keep stopping and listening to music. As good a writer as Guralnick is, he would be the first to argue that there is no substitute for listening. After reading his essay on Skip James, I lost a solid two hours on Spotify.
Three of Richard Price's New York Novels
The Wanderers, 1974 This is Price’s debut, published when he was 24, and it is a powerhouse, impossible not to devour like a stoned teenager on a midnight run to White Castle. The story revolves around a gang of white kids in the north Bronx, the ones whose parents didn’t make it to the burbs, as they confront the end of adolescence and the beginning of they haven’t got a clue what. They’re obsessed with sex, pop music, bowling, and beating the living shit out of anyone who is not of their tribe.
As if You Don't Have Enough to Read
AP Photo/Knopf/Brigitte Lacombe Joan Didion, author of “The Year of Magical Thinking” and “Slouching Towards Bethlehem,” among other books. Inspired by The Guardian’s recent list of the 100 greatest nonfiction books, we here at the magazine decided to create our own list. Dispensing with all pretense to rigor — it’s a list, silly! — we simply asked each member of the staff to pick their five favorites. The complete list is after the jump.
Twins -- The High Cost of Multiple Births
Two fuzzy heartbeats—our doctor pointed to the black-and-white monitor of the ultrasound machine, and we both squinted and pretended to see what he was talking about. A lima bean, we thought, with a smaller lima bean next to it? Sensing that we weren’t getting it, he punched a few keys and suddenly the small exam room at Cornell’s Center for Reproductive Medicine and Infertility filled with a rapid-fire thump-thump-thump-thump: our embryos on speakerphone. So wait, it had worked? Twice?
R.E.M.'s New Box Set Is Part of Its Unique Business Strategy
No one in R.E.M. is dead. Phew. To continue reading this article you must be a Bloomberg Professional Service Subscriber.
What Does a Person Have to Do to Become a Social Outcast, Anyway?
If Charles Ponzi were alive today, and not rotting away in prison—two big ifs, but stay with me here—it’s a sure bet that he’d be trading on his name. Time is often on the side of famous crooks; as years pass, the awfulness of their crimes drifts from the public consciousness, leaving behind a gentler aura, a sort of gratitude for having enriched human history. Nobody can argue that Ponzi did not make life more interesting.
This Sunday: Oklahoma City Is Big League
A semi-embarrassing curiosity of mine is obscure professional sports leagues — stuff like arena football, roller hockey, team tennis — and one of the observable phenomenon of these leagues is that when they start pulling their teams out of Chicago and Houston and putting them in places like Tacoma, Rochester and Oklahoma City, it’s usually a sign of their impending doom.
Keith Richards on Mick Jagger, Donald Trump, Drugs and More
Fortified by a midday cocktail of Campari and soda with a double shot of vodka, Keith Richards dives right into a subject he has personally researched as deeply as anyone: drugs and the near-death experience. It has been 35 years since Richards kicked the heroin habit that made him the iconic rock’n’roll wastoid of the 1970s -- he curtailed his cocaine usage a few years later -- but there are certain vices he will not renounce.
R.E.M.'s New Box Set Is Part of Its Unique Business Strategy
No one in R.E.M. is dead. Phew. From a renovated red-brick factory near the train tracks in Athens, Ga., Bertis Downs orchestrates the afterlife of R.E.M. At its peak, R.E.M. had seven full-time office workers; now they’re down to two, plus Downs.
Krugman or Paulson: Who You Gonna Bet On?
History will show that the week before the nation's 234th birthday, Paul Krugman, Nobel Laureate and professor of economics at Princeton University, went all in on Keynesian orthodoxy. To regular readers of his column in , this was not a surprise.
Why the Replacements Went Home to Minneapolis After 23 Years
When the front desk person at the Marriott hotel in downtown Minneapolis asked, "What brings you to town?," I would have won instant acceptance, or at least comprehension, if I had answered "a secret Prince concert." Or better yet: "The Vikings game.
New York Magazine
Dungen, which just released its second U.S. album, Tio Bitar, to strong reviews, has to be the unlikeliest of the countless Swedish bands to become indie sensations here. Punk rock was invented precisely to vanquish this sort of long-haired stuff. Imagine swapping girlfriends and acid tabs with your pals in the sunny Swedish countrysidethen imagine the soundtrack.
New York Magazine
Ryan Adams is just a couple of ticks past 30, Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy is still shy of 40. But both have put a lot of mileage on their odometers. They started out kind of the sameplaying loud, inebriated roots rockthen launched themselves on different tracks. Tweedy wanted to be an artist, and became the conscience of post-indie rock. Adams wanted to be a rock star, and wound up the clown. Like all clowns, Adams had his appeal.
New York Magazine
There are two New York bands on the cusp of greatness this fall, and isn’t it sweet that they should come not from the same hipster tribe but from opposite ends of the rock universe? One is a gregarious bar band that pilfers Born to Runera Bruce and eighties hair metal, while the other is an art band as moody and introverted as Radiohead. The barflies are the Hold Steady, no strangers to close readers of these pages.
New York Magazine
Three years ago, Arcade Fire materialized out of the chilly air of Montreal. They were an oddball crew, including the Butler brothers (front man Win and sideman Will) from Texas via Exeter Academy; Win’s wife, Régine Chassagne, who is from Haiti and somehow makes playing an accordion look graceful; and the gangly redheaded multi-instrumentalist Richard Reed Parry, who resembles Napoleon Dynamite.
New York Magazine
As if it wasn’t unpleasant enough, this recession comes with an info glut, all this economic data purporting to answer a simple question: Are things getting better? The answer is rarely straightforward. The numbers aren’t just confusing. They seem to be measuring some other planet. In New York, we have our own economic indicators, often based on the degree to which people are being thwarted by the lack of opportunity. An old standby is the Overeducated Cabbie Index.
George Sauer, the Super Bowl Hero Who Hated Football
By all outward appearances, George Sauer’s dreams came true. At 25, he was a Super Bowl hero. In the 1969 game that ordained Joe Namath’s future as a modern TV celebrity, the Jets quarterback racked up 133 yards of passes to Sauer, who, as the son of a highly decorated player and coach, was born and bred to be right there. He went to the University of Texas, where he developed a fluid, intuitive understanding of the game.
New York Magazine
This football season will go down as the one during which the word concussion started appearing in the sports pages about as often as touchdown. As if it was ever in doubt, studies have now confirmed that playing the sport is extremely hazardous to your health. There is nothing vague or ambiguous about the risks. Players are shaving years, if not decades, off their lives, as well as significantly raising their chances of dementia.
A Reason to Root for Dubai on the Hudson
Riff Nov. 22, 2013 It used to be that if you lived in Greenwich Village, one thing you could count on was that a black reflective-glass office tower was not going to be built next door. Well, after half a lifetime of wanting to live in Greenwich Village, I now do, and a black reflective-glass office tower has, in fact, been built next door. It’s part of a cluster of shiny futuristic-looking things that surround the old Cooper Union building like enemy spaceships.
New York Times Mag (US) - Coverjunkie
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Friendship, Hateship, Loveship, Manship
I wasn’t a quarter of the way through this 918-page T. C. Boyle collection before I started to worry about turning into a T. C. Boyle character myself. There’s a certain progression to many of these stories — a semi-normal person clinging to his sanity, if not his dignity, against a bruising series of misfortunes — that pretty much tracks my reading experience, too. The assignment seemed harmless enough, starting out.
This Sunday: Who Put the Fiction in My Nonfiction?
We do as much as we can here at The Times to avoid introducing made-up things into the world. So this Sunday’s magazine is quite a departure — the cover story is a work of fiction by Dave Eggers, an adaptation from his novel ‘‘The Circle,’’ which is to be published the week after next. The inspiration to do this did not start with “You know what? We should think about publishing some fiction.” The magazine has done that before, with excellent results.
How to Take a Compliment Like a Rock Star
Among the many pleasures of Russell Brand’s diatribe in The Guardian against the fashion-media industrial complex is the Noel Gallagher cameo.
Seen Any Artisanal Gangsters?
As I was leaving the office the other day, I snagged a crime novel called “At the End of a Dull Day,” by Massimo Carlotto, off our giveaway table. I often do this as a random test. I’ll read a couple of pages on the subway, typically lose interest and then find a place to leave it. This novel, however, completely hijacked my attention, and I finished it that same night. Originally written in Italian, “At the End of a Dull Day” is set in Veneto, the province around Venice.
Life in the Rivers, Streets and Skylines of American Cities
When I started my first job in journalism, at the architecture and design magazine Metropolis, I was driven by my own ignorance to read compulsively about the field. Beyond the survey courses I’d endured in college, I knew nothing. So I pored over monographs, and studied Ada Louise Huxtable’s work and the marvelous collection of Michael Sorkin’s Village Voice columns from the 1980s.
Paul Westerberg on How to Write an Ending
That quirky, lovable riff on songwriting that Paul Westerberg wrote for The Times recently got me thinking of a tip that I picked up from him many years ago. Not personally. It was from an article in Musician, a long-gone magazine that I was addicted to as a teenager. I remember Westerberg talking about how he often wrote a brand-new part at the end of his songs because when he was a kid listening to the radio, it bugged him when the tunes just repeated and faded out.
What Happened on Frontier Airlines Flight 727?
Some commenters and bloggers have seized on certain details of “The Plane Was About to Crash. Now What?” by Noah Gallagher Shannon, which ran on the Lives page in the May 19 issue of the magazine, questioning whether the emergency landing he describes really happened and even whether he was ever on any such flight. But as I just explained to James Fallows at The Atlantic, there is simply no question. Shannon was on Frontier Airlines Flight 727 on June 30, 2011, from Washington to Denver.
The Plot Against Rock (Published 2013)
Paul Humphreys, left, and Andy McCluskey of O.M.D.Credit...Immo Klink for The New York Times May 10, 2013 Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphreys have devoted much of their artistic lives to a war on rock nostalgia, but when you’re showing a first-time visitor around Liverpool, what can you do? You’re obliged to end up at the Cavern Club, a not-completely-uncharming replica of the vaulted, subterranean bar where the pre-Fab Four honed their fabulousness.
O.M.D.’s Plot Against Rock
Immo Klink for The New York Times Paul Humphreys, left, and Andy McCluskey of O.M.D. Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphreys have devoted much of their artistic lives to a war on rock nostalgia, but when you’re showing a first-time visitor around Liverpool, what can you do? You’re obliged to end up at the Cavern Club, a not-completely-uncharming replica of the vaulted, subterranean bar where the pre-Fab Four honed their fabulousness.
The Last Gasp of the East Village
The ’90s was not a golden era in New York City, by almost anybody’s reckoning. It had neither the nothing-left-to-lose freedom of the ’70s nor the everything-to-gain hedonism of the aughts. History will record it as a neutered, amorphous interregnum. But I can attest to the fact that the East Village was a good place to live then, filled with coffee shops, secondhand stores, Kim’s Video and lots of seedy bars.
Introducing The Daily Dog-Ear
Starting today, The Daily Dog-Ear will appear weekdays on The 6th Floor. It will be a brief post and link from someone at the magazine about something excellent on the Internet — it won’t always be a lengthy read, although it could be, because, naturally, we like things like that.
‘Last Friends,’ by Jane Gardam
On a list of my top reading interests, the lives of kooky geezers in a fading English village don’t rank high. But all it takes is a page or two of Jane Gardam to force a reconsideration. Her prose is so perceptive and fluid that it feels mentally healthful, exiling the noise and clutter of your mind as efficiently as a Schubert sonata. She could make actuarial tables pleasurable.
Why I Fight for the Irish
What makes you fall head over heels in love with a team? The usual fairy tale involves fathers and hometowns and afternoons spent at the ballpark, a closeness that rarely happens in other contexts. I didn’t have that as a child. My father used to take us to watch Yale play football, but he was more interested in the singing and the camaraderie than the game, which perplexed me.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
(Page 2 of 2) My big fear, of course, was that I was becoming an editor. I won’t lie. For a long time, I considered this an unacceptable outcome. I don’t know if anyone ever told me, “Those who can’t write, edit,” or if I made that up on my own, but that little aphorism haunted me. Meanwhile, my grandiose writing projects were all going nowhere for the same tedious reason.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
Illustration by Tom Gauld Here’s a partial, redacted-for-the-sake-of-my-dignity list of stuff I once aspired to write but never did: a “Mamma Mia!”-esque rock opera called “Bastards of Young,” based on the songs of the Replacements. A sitcom set in Brooklyn that inverts “I Love Lucy,” so that the wife plays the stable, amiable breadwinner while her lovable loon of a husband hatches ridiculous schemes, often involving the production of artisanal goods.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
Illustration by Tom Gauld Here’s a partial, redacted-for-the-sake-of-my-dignity list of stuff I once aspired to write but never did: a “Mamma Mia!”-esque rock opera called “Bastards of Young,” based on the songs of the Replacements. A sitcom set in Brooklyn that inverts “I Love Lucy,” so that the wife plays the stable, amiable breadwinner while her lovable loon of a husband hatches ridiculous schemes, often involving the production of artisanal goods.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
Illustration by Tom Gauld Here’s a partial, redacted-for-the-sake-of-my-dignity list of stuff I once aspired to write but never did: a “Mamma Mia!”-esque rock opera called “Bastards of Young,” based on the songs of the Replacements. A sitcom set in Brooklyn that inverts “I Love Lucy,” so that the wife plays the stable, amiable breadwinner while her lovable loon of a husband hatches ridiculous schemes, often involving the production of artisanal goods.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
If you had the time, believe me, I could flesh out these ideas for you, explain their origins, describe in fine detail my vision of the characters and plots and how it would all coalesce into something awesome. Or not. For at least 25 years, I’ve been serial daydreaming like this, recording hundreds of ideas in a sequence of little notebooks that I have carried around and then stacked in a shoe box in my closet, a personal encyclopedia of undone to-do’s.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
If you had the time, believe me, I could flesh out these ideas for you, explain their origins, describe in fine detail my vision of the characters and plots and how it would all coalesce into something awesome. Or not. For at least 25 years, I’ve been serial daydreaming like this, recording hundreds of ideas in a sequence of little notebooks that I have carried around and then stacked in a shoe box in my closet, a personal encyclopedia of undone to-do’s.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
Illustration by Tom Gauld Here’s a partial, redacted-for-the-sake-of-my-dignity list of stuff I once aspired to write but never did: a “Mamma Mia!”-esque rock opera called “Bastards of Young,” based on the songs of the Replacements. A sitcom set in Brooklyn that inverts “I Love Lucy,” so that the wife plays the stable, amiable breadwinner while her lovable loon of a husband hatches ridiculous schemes, often involving the production of artisanal goods.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
Illustration by Tom Gauld Here’s a partial, redacted-for-the-sake-of-my-dignity list of stuff I once aspired to write but never did: a “Mamma Mia!”-esque rock opera called “Bastards of Young,” based on the songs of the Replacements. A sitcom set in Brooklyn that inverts “I Love Lucy,” so that the wife plays the stable, amiable breadwinner while her lovable loon of a husband hatches ridiculous schemes, often involving the production of artisanal goods.
‘Be Wrong as Fast as You Can’
(Page 2 of 2) My big fear, of course, was that I was becoming an editor. I won’t lie. For a long time, I considered this an unacceptable outcome. I don’t know if anyone ever told me, “Those who can’t write, edit,” or if I made that up on my own, but that little aphorism haunted me. Meanwhile, my grandiose writing projects were all going nowhere for the same tedious reason.
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