Kelefa Sanneh

1 week ago | newyorker.com | Kelefa Sanneh

On Friday evening, I was texting with a friend when I happened to mention where I was: sitting in the middle of Times Square, watching a boxing match. He wrote back immediately: “What is the boxing match about? Like what is its significance?” This was a good question, although not one that could be answered in the minute-long break between rounds, and possibly not one that could be answered at all.

2 weeks ago | newyorker.com | Kelefa Sanneh

“I don’t write a whole lot of love songs,” Megan Moroney said last month, onstage at Radio City Music Hall. Fortunately, that’s not exactly true. Almost all her songs are about love, although she sings mostly about coping with its absence, or its failure to be respectfully reciprocated by various dudes, including one who had a Chevrolet and a sneaky smoking habit, and who is now known, to millions of Moroney fans, as Noah.

1 month ago | newyorker.com | Kelefa Sanneh

Patrick Schneeweis was never the voice of a generation, but perhaps he was the voice of a tendency. To a small but fervent and far-flung community of listeners, he was known as Pat the Bunny, an anarchist punk troubadour from Vermont whose desperate—and sometimes bleakly funny—folk songs were about young people who wanted to smash the system, although they often settled for getting smashed themselves.

1 month ago | cbsnews.com | Kelefa Sanneh

José Andrés on feeding the needy, and feeding the soul You don't typically find chef José Andrés at home. Often, he's wherever there's trouble, feeding survivors of wars or natural disaster. He's founder of World Central Kitchen, the 15-year-old non-profit. But here, outside Washington, where he and his wife raised three daughters, the world-renowned chef is making me a Tortilla Española (or Spanish omelette).

Feb 13, 2025 | aol.com | Kelefa Sanneh

The New Yorker, the beloved weekly magazine, is celebrating its one-hundredth birthday. I have been a staff writer at the magazine since 2008, and Bruce Diones has been at The New Yorker since, well, not quite since the beginning. "1978," he said. "I was in the cradle. They left me on the doorstep and I came."Asked his title, Diones replied , "I don't really have one. I aid and abet all the crimes that happen here.