This autumn truly starts — as all falls in Philadelphia should forevermore — with a block party and parade on Walnut Street hosted by my-man-pots-n-pans Jerry Blavat.

No one can halt the messiest-ever prom night since Prom Night.

To say the Wilma Theater's recent changes have the feel of a Shakespearean tragedy would be an exaggeration. Yet two recent shake-ups — one departure, one new addition — have reshaped one of Philly's longest-standing theater companies.

Van Dyke Parks has been at the epicenter of American pop since the dawn of the '60s.

If Joe Paterno can come back year after year like a death phoenix in a Krass Bros. sports jacket, surely you could love this city’s favorite sports-theater-comedy The Philly Fan again.

When Peter Reynolds won Temple University's Provost Seed Grant, it wasn't just a gift given for services rendered.

Don't think of Bilal and Love for Sale as hostages. They are legends of the ether, free as birds and joyfully all over the place.

If you've loved Birdie Busch, you've witnessed her transformation from gossamer folkie princess to rootin' tootin' rodeo queen with a sweet country lilt.

When good fortune smiles, you give back. Me? I'll give what Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet called a love letter — "a bullet from a fuckin' gun, fucker."

Maxfield Gast has played saxophone on recordings with Philly jazzbos (Puzzlebox), ska heads (Public Service!) and elegant world musicians (Bebek). None of those things prepare you for what a clear and concise ax man he is.