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Showing posts from 2019

One With the Force

For as long as I have been alive, Star Wars has been in my life. I was only a year old when The Empire Strikes Back came out, a time when apparently a lot of people were angry about the twist that revealed Luke Skywalker’s parentage. I was not aware of this until I was in college, and frankly, does it really matter about the twist or the context of the day for fans? I think it does, as history has a way of repeating itself. These eleven films (along with a couple of animated shows, a holiday special, and a couple of live action shows) continue to mean something, even when they come out to mixed reviews. The Star Wars saga itself is bigger than those reactions, and I’m happy to see the saga transcend generations. I’m only a few days removed from seeing The Rise of Skywalker for the first time. I thought it was a fantastic film in the Skywalker saga. And since I’m not a filmmaker or a producer, I’m not one to make a bold claim about how I would have done it better. Because Star

A Year in Music (2019 Edition)

Another great year of music came through my eardrums. Some were from new acts, others came from acts I’ve loved for many years. This is a collection of albums that brought me the most joy in the year. I also compiled a lengthy list of my favorite songs of the year here . Holding Patterns, Endless Three former members of Crash of Rhinos made an album that is on the level of their former band. Dare I say Endless is better -- in some aspects -- than that incredible five-piece’s second album, Knots . Imagine the shouting of Hot Water Music with the dynamics ala . . . And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead and Sonic Youth, along with drumming that is not afraid to run over the beat. Just fantastic from start to finish. American Football, LP3 American Football’s third self-titled album is another stellar addition to the band’s discography. For a band that was originally a one-off while the members were in college (and their first LP was done mainly a

Why Not?

It’s been four years since Hope and I have officially been together. (And a week shy of two years married.) It’s hard to think of a better way of commemorating the occasion than sharing the experience of meeting the guy who — in some ways — helped bring her and I together: Kevin Smith. To recap: Hope and I met through Twitter only a short time after Kevin’s 2015 appearance at the Texas Theatre. She related to the thoughts I blogged about after hearing Kevin’s two-hour epic response on how to stay positive in spite of people constantly saying you suck. Even though it was a Twitter interaction, I had never felt a pull that strong to someone before. I sensed something was way more to this woman than I could put into words. It was more than her finding inspiration in Kevin’s response when many of the people in my earshot who complained how only one question was answered over a two-hour period. There was depth I wanted to know more about — and I wanted to know soon. After she put out

Sound Salvation

Earlier this week, a number of people I used to work with in broadcasting shared pictures, lists, and stories on social media for National Radio Day. Rather than write out a list of stations I worked for -- either as an intern, promotions assistant, producer, or traffic reporter -- I thought about advice I would give about the broadcasting world, along with reflection. No matter the field, I hate the advice of “Don’t” when people consider working in a field. Also, I hate the line of, “You’ll never make any money in it,” assuming people only want to get rich going into any field. I still remember what it was like to be eager to learn about a world I felt drawn towards, whether it was broadcasting or journalism. And I remember how the bitter folks made for a lot of excess noise and were in the way of finding things out for myself. I was in broadcasting for almost 20 years, until last year. And I have zero regrets being in it. I now work full-time for an auction house, where the maj

Every Wave to Ever Rise

For almost two years, I have worked on a sequel to my first book, Post . Titled Forever Got Shorter: Reunions, Revivals, and Another Look at the Influence of Post-Hardcore 2009-2019 unless I come up with a better title, this book continues to be a DIY, labor of love project. And I’m happy to say I’ve reached a breakthrough in the research process. Something I must address in this new book (that I was able to sidestep in Post ) was how far the reach of mainstream emo was from 2001 until 2011. From Fall Out Boy to My Chemical Romance to Taking Back Sunday, it would be unfair to avoid the cultural significance of these acts, no matter how I felt about their music at the time I wrote Post .  I’ve come to accept that a lot of people think emo/post-hardcore is only reflected in the stereotypes that came from fans of the mainstream version of emo. Eyeliner, flat-ironed hair, black nail polish, black clothes, and lots of yelping/screaming in a very calculated sort of way. But I sti

It's a Long Way Down

There was a time when I listened to Ryan Adams' music practically all the time. Back in 2001, as I finished college and tried to navigate post-college life, the double dose of Whiskeytown’s Pneumonia and Adams’ Gold led me to everything else he had made before. It was countrified rock music that spoke to me in a deep way, mainly on the musical front. I don’t tend to really pay attention to lyrics, but I connected with Adams’ lyrics about being young and perpetually heartbroken. I thought some self-inflicted mental pain about awkward and failed attempts at relationships put me in the headspace to relate to songs by Adams, as well as Bright Eyes. There was so much time and energy spent on anger and sadness directed at myself for things not working out, so I found solace in songs like “Harder Now That It’s Over” and “The Rescue Blues.” As it turned out, there was a pattern in my life: if I had a little taste of a feeling of sadness or anger, I could relate to those who had it

Participation Trophies

The topic of participation trophies seems to come up more and more when describing why people aged 25 and younger seem to settle for mediocrity. It's an easy, straight line to make, especially in the sports world, as a women's basketball coach proclaimed in a press conference in 2016. As in, a child is raised to believe any kind of effort deserves to be rewarded -- no matter the win-or-lose outcome -- and he or she can't tell the difference later in life. As someone who's about to turn 40, this apparently modern idea is not one to me. I played in an outdoor soccer league for a few years in the mid-1980s. At the end of each season, the coaches threw the team a party and gave each player a small trophy and ribbon. Neither the trophy nor ribbon said something like "Best Striker" or "Best Keeper." They were generic. Even then, as an elementary school student, I didn't think these trophies meant something grand. It was simply proof that I playe