KAABOO looms over San Diego in a sort of turquoise haze. An edifice of blase relaxation, accessible amenities, familial embraces, and frothy brews.
While the crowd was a little inept at call-and-response, it was because they were so eclectic. Not all of them were familiar with the conventions of Hip Hop or how to be interactive with it. This didn’t matter. We had young and old, republican and liberal, intellectuals and party-animals out to have a good time with us.
I can’t recall another year from this decade that has been this consistently good, across the board, among all genres in music.
Why do I love silent films? It’s both a simple and a complex question. The simple answer is that they’re movies and I pretty much love every genre you can think of and then a few more.
Look, I want to write about the bands I loved in high school and what songs used to make me cry before I starting crying over real things, like paying my rent and disappointing my mother with my lack of realistic career goals.
The political unrest and paranoia of this film mirrors our current social climate to a point beyond familiarity. It makes itself accessible to the populace in a way that is still relevant.
This month we received sad and sudden news: former assistant editor Tom Bevis would be leaving us to deliver a series of lectures at his alma mater, Providence College. With heavy hearts, we bid goodbye to the bearded poet laureate and, in the wake of this vacancy, moved forward with our new assistant editor, Andy Ferguson.
In my early twenties, Jeff Tweedy’s morose, downtrodden, one-foot-in-the-grave rock was sad chic. The frontman of Wilco wasn’t enigmatic, but rather a bedraggled dude who wore his heart on the sleeve of his flannel.
I got to my parents’ house and he greeted me at the door, with one of his typical Leo Buscaglia hugs. “How ya holding up, Champ?” he asked. “Liked I want to scream, laugh, pass out and cry all at once,” I said.
Some, none, or maybe all of these may widely be considered noteworthy records from the class of 1996, but they are most certainly the most essential choices from my personal canon of appreciation.