by Katie Baker

by Malcolm Jones

Geoff Muldaur is a reluctant headliner. You’ll find his name as the leader of the Texas Sheiks on the spine of the CD case, but the front cover of the new album just says “Texas Sheiks.” Likewise, while he is far and away the best and most unique vocalist on the album—this is the man who inspired Richard Thompson to say, “There are only three white blues singers, and Geoff Muldaur is two of them”—he seems more than content to equally share vocal duties with the rest of the band. He’s made his share of solo records, in a career that stretches back to the '60s, but they are outnumbered by the collaborations he’s been part of—with the Jim Kweskin Jug Band (a band that inspired everyone from the Lovin’ Spoonful to the Grateful Dead), with his former wife, Maria Muldaur, with a Woodstock ensemble that included Paul Butterfield, Ronnie Barron and Amos Garrett, and most recently as the arranger catalyst for a big band recreation/reinterpretation of the music of '20s jazz great Bix Beiderbecke. Oh, and many year ago, his definitive version of the song “Brazil” inspired and sustained Terry Gilliam on his way to making the film of the same name. Muldaur gets around, he just doesn’t seem to like to stand out.

Somebody could ask Hollywood the same question. Fall movie season is usually the time when the studios haul out their dark dramas for awards consideration, but this year's batch seems especially bleak. The themes they touch upon include incest, murder, AIDS, cancer, abuse, layoffs, and lots of unexpected, tragic deaths (and we're not even counting the dead vampires in the Twilight sequel). This probably isn't just coincidental. This fall's slate was written at the end of the Bush administration, when most of Hollywood—at least the predominantly liberal part—was under a cloud of gloom. Now, we're all feeling gloomy; the economy is in tatters, and the unemployment rate continues to soar. Does anybody really want to go to the movies this year to feel even more depressed?

Gavin Creel, star in Broadway's revival of Hair, will march on Washington, D.C. this weekend for gay rights. He joined us in the studio beforehand to talk about his musical roots, his hatred of auditions and his feelings on American foreign policy.

by Joshua Alston

There are issues so polarizing, so emotionally draining, so morally fraught, that we never really solve them as much as we table them for a while. Euthanasia is one such issue, which has come back to fore during the vigorous debate over American health care. But it’s an equally important issue in the world of entertainment: when is it finally time to pull the plug and kill a TV show? I know there are emotions involved, believe me I do. But I have to be the cold realist—there are some shows that have to die. It’s simply too painful to see them in their current state. I can’t bear it, and I’m willing to make the tough choices that others can’t. What follows is a list of the shows that must be taken off the respirator post haste.

Asked to appear on the Australian variety hour Hey Hey It's Saturday as a guest judge, Harry Connick Jr. sputters in disbelief when a Jackson 5 impersonation group entirely in blackface appears onstage. He first gives the group a 0 scorecard for the performance while the audience boos; later, at about 4:40 into the clip, Connick launches into an impassioned race-relations lecture explaining why blackface is a bad thing. "If I knew that was going to be a part of the show, I definitely wouldn't have done it," Connick declares on live TV.  The host appears genuinely surprised.

by Ramin Setoodeh

In what they describe as "probably the last time [they]'ll be together," the five surviving actors who played Munchkins in 1939's Wizard of Oz—celebrating its 70th anniversary this year—reveal set secrets and reflect on their roles in the Oscar-nominated film. Learn why Toto banked more cash than the Munchkins, how Judy Garland handed out gratis candy on the set, and more in this installment of 7 Things. Click the player to view!

Presented without comment—tell us what you think, below.

by Joshua Alston

Of all the confounding behaviors that human beings engage in, perhaps none is more irritating—or more common—than hypocrisy. It’s fascinating when someone condemns behavior while engaging in it himself, which is what makes David Letterman’s relatively mundane sex scandal more intriguing than it has a right to be. He mercilessly joked about the illicit affairs of others while having just those sorts of affairs himself. To expose such a disconnect is oddly fun, and the more sanctimonious the person, the more rewarding the exposure.

This is what makes the documentary Outrage, which airs Monday and re-airs Thursday on HBO—on the eve of a gay-rights march in Washington, D.C.—such a guilty pleasure.