In light of Orlando, in light of Oakland, it can be scary to believe in the sacred safe space. It exists. And if for a while, not in a way that you can put your body in, it can manifest in your mind. Don’t abandon the safe space. Just move it. Change it. The safe space is important. The safe space remains important, even if you feel like it doesn’t to anyone else. Even if you feel like the holy ground has been snatched from under your feet too many times.
Here are 7 things we’re into this week.
There has always been one book on the Smiths that has been revered above all others, and that was Johnny Rogan’s early 1990s book Morrissey and Marr: The Severed Alliance. I first bought a copy of this book in the late 1990s and devoured the information contained therein. In particular, it offered a nice background into the upbringing and pre-Smiths years of the four band members, especially the mysterious and aloof Morrissey. It was also the book that prompted Morrissey himself to wish death upon author Johnny Rogan without having even read the book, famously saying in the pages of the musical papers: “Personally I hope Johnny Rogan ends his days very soon in an M3 pile-up.”
You’ve got to go see your family sometimes. You’re not a monster. Even if you’re a monster, you’ve got other monsters you need to go see, once a year or so. Chances are, in a year like 2016, those other monsters are just as scared of you as you are of them. And, even if you don’t celebrate Christmas, you’ll almost certainly have December 25th off from work, so you might as well end the year with the family.
After several years in the musician closet, singer/songwriter/bedroom producer Krista is finally putting together her debut album SWIM. Since Krista loves writing about herself almost as much as she loves writing music, we asked her to document her process while simultaneously trying to stay afloat as a 21-year-old alone in the concrete jungle. This is the first in a series.
On the corner of Broome and Delancey is a terrible two-part dive where terrible “print is dead!”start-up yuppies come to play pool terribly. The bartender writes terrible ebooks by day and always has the Spotify Radio for The Black Keys turned on, for he believes curating playlists is a “terrible waste of time.” Tonight they’re playing that tired MGMT song that probably wasn’t too terrible to begin with but is ruined forever by Urban Outfitters and overplay at bars just like this one.
Tonight, Reina and Gauraa “cancel their plans” to discuss one of the shows that brought them together, Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life.
In the 1990s, for the first time in the history of human civilization, that all changed. Women were angry. African-Americans were angry. Poor people were angry. And white middle-class males were angry about the fact that they felt guilty.
From Hayley Kiyoko’s soft, sweet, teenage narrative about love and crushes and jealous, “Girls Like Girls,” to to Cruel Youth’s soulful, lamentable lyricism on “Mr. Watson,” here are 7 things we’re into this week.
Sometimes I forget that Bruno Mars is not a real name, the same way that I forget that he sang “Nothin’ on You” or that B.o.B. still makes music. Peter Gene Hernandez has come a long way since his humble but banal as fuck, fedora-wearing, piano-crooning days. He’s graduated from flannels and pompadours to cuban links and designer minks, and a brand new “player” persona.