This isn’t a eulogy for Anthony Bourdain. It’s a celebration of rock and roll. Which in its way is a celebration of that which Bourdain loved. Rather than focus on the man who’s gone, let’s hoist a fucking chalice to the man who’s still here, Ethan Miller. Miller might not have inspired a love of travel, untold stories, or unconsidered
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This one might be a bit of a bummer. Or maybe not. Let me tell you a story about my buddy Ben Metzger. The man’s a dreamer. As far back as I can remember, he’s always wanted to be a rapper. Also, he’s from Corvallis, which makes that goal tenuous at best. I’ll cut to the chase; he became a
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Dissent is patriotic. Music makes life suck less. I hold these truths to be self-evident, especially on Independence Day. Doesn’t matter what kind of music you’re into. Doesn’t matter who’s in office. We should all be thinking critically all the time, and we need a proper soundtrack to kick our powers of incredulity into high gear. Plus, music sends audio
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Every trip begins with music. It’s a door to foreign cultures for which you need fashion no key. Your brain is a lockpick kit, capable of jimmying any sound. Film and literature are similarly functioning gateways, provided you have subtitles or translated editions, but the magic of music is you need not know the words. Even if you have no
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Thankful is not my default setting. Open up the panel on my back, and you’ll find “Critical,” “Curmudgeonly,” “Crazy,” and “Skeptical Skeletor,” but “Thankful” is practically a hidden button, squirreled away in a tiny recess that can only be reached via a modified paperclip, like your car’s time-setting function. It’s not that I don’t have a thousand things to be
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“Double double, toil and trouble, these be bands to reduce you to rubble. An aural potion to fill you with fright, drown in these sounds on Halloween night. If you dare to take a listen, they’re sure to make your cake-hole glisten. Drool as you duel with undead waves, and pray you don’t stumble into an early grave.” – The
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Damn I hate Downward Dog. If it was an actual dog, I would put it down. Every time the yoga instructor indicates that it’s time to transition into this position, I want to euthanize myself. Whatever sadist thought of this shoulder-grinding aberration of bodily positioning was a sick dog, and deserved to get Old-Yellered with extreme prejudice. The fact that
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“People wonder why jazz is dying.” Terence Fletcher, “Whiplash” To paraphrase the title of a recent Mogwai album, jazz will never die, but you will. Jazz is forever, and we’re just lucky enough to live during its lifetime. But good old abusive, homophobic Terence has a point. Jazz isn’t dying, but its relation to the popular consciousness is very, very
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Tear down the wall! Tear down the wall! That’s not just good advice for Roger Waters, Bob Geldof, and Germany circa 1989, but for organizers of music festivals, as well. There are many reasons why SXSW is one of the greatest in the world, but the one that stands above all others for me is simple: Choice. Yes, there are walls. Any
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As I busted left off The 5, making for the wilderness of now-dried-up Detroit Lake, Compton’s Most Wanted’s “Straight Checkn ‘Em” came rolling out of my speakers. The “Scarface” samples, low-end thud, and nasal tales of drivebys and ducksicks that are MC Eiht’s forte propelled me forward through Mill City, onward toward the annual camping trip that has come to
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