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<!--Generated by Squarespace V5 Site Server v5.13.156 (http://www.squarespace.com) on Sun, 19 May 2013 20:13:13 GMT--><rss xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" version="2.0"><channel><title>Music</title><link>http://www.amcircus.com/music/</link><description></description><lastBuildDate>Tue, 25 Dec 2012 18:44:34 +0000</lastBuildDate><copyright></copyright><language>en-US</language><generator>Squarespace V5 Site Server v5.13.156 (http://www.squarespace.com)</generator><item><title>The More Things Change at South by Southwest</title><dc:creator>Editor</dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 14 Mar 2012 20:39:17 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.amcircus.com/music/the-more-things-change-at-south-by-southwest.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">1141265:13773718:15433736</guid><description><![CDATA[When does something transform from spectacle to outright free-for-all? For South by Southwest, the music and media conference held yearly in Austin, Texas, it might as well have been around 2009, the year I first attended. Of course, it's impossible to absolutely pinpoint something of this nature, but I know this: at some dot to the left of my initial attendance, South by Southwest was a place for the music industry to gather and come up with new ideas; at some dot to the right, South by Southwest was a place for college students and the entire media world to take a vacation. BY JAMIE BERK]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.amcircus.com/music/rss-comments-entry-15433736.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>A Portrait of the Artist as a Sad Man</title><dc:creator>Editor</dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 23 Feb 2012 12:05:11 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.amcircus.com/music/a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-sad-man.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">1141265:13773718:15155855</guid><description><![CDATA[The first time I ever wrote about music was for a journalism class I took during one of my first years in college. The assignment was simple-review a song. There were no real directions other than this. At the time, I was obsessed with Eric Clapton, whose Derek and the Dominos recordings had fortuitously made their way onto our building's illicit servers that spring. Eric-or Derek, as it were-and I felt like kindred spirits frustrated by loneliness and unrequited love. Between his impassioned vocals and guitar work and Duane Allman's slide transcendence, what felt like raw, unbridled emotion oozed from my small pair of speakers and into my soul. "Layla," of course, was the album's undisputed masterpiece, and it made the ideal choice for my review. In my head, I was Derek and his pain was mine. BY JOHN VILANOVA]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.amcircus.com/music/rss-comments-entry-15155855.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>The Rise of The Lyriqs</title><dc:creator>Editor</dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 23 Dec 2011 23:56:31 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.amcircus.com/music/the-rise-of-the-lyriqs.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">1141265:13773718:14309234</guid><description><![CDATA[The Lyriqs, an unknown rock band that aspire to someday become famous, played their first gig on a rainy Saturday night at the Yippie Café in the Bowery. The Yippie is a hippie holdout from the 1960s. Poets and songwriters used to gather there to talk revolution over coffee. One wall holds a mural of Abbie Hoffman. Another wall, a painting of a giant mushroom. Bob Dylan used to play the Yippie when he was starting out, his small audiences clueless he would become the voice of their generation. Turnout is low is at the Yippie on this rainy night as well. BY ALEX VADUKUL]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.amcircus.com/music/rss-comments-entry-14309234.xml</wfw:commentRss></item></channel></rss>