Bakar Interview: Evolution Of A Badkid (Office Magazine)

Story published in Office Magazine

Categories, labels or even other people often frame the story of London-based wunderkind Bakar. They say he was the guy in Skepta’s crew who, one day, decided to start ripping samples from Bombay Bicycle Club. Or that he’s that dude who’s co-signed by Pharrell and walked for Abloh. Or that he’s a genre-bending indie revivalist who sounds a bit like Bloc Party or King Krule.

Bakar recently released his latest EP, Will You Be My Yellow? When the rising twenty-something Londoner reflects on himself, his art and his vision, these tropes don’t linger in his narrative. The Virgils of the world might be calling, but letting his own life inform his artistry, and not the other way around, seems to be Bakar’s guiding principle.

“I know he’s on Wi-Fi if the message goes green,” says Bakar’s manager, while sitting in a swanky Australian restaurant in London’s proto-hipster enclave, Shoreditch. She’s on and off her iPhone, helplessly trying to figure out where her artist could be after he texted her an hour ago saying he was leaving, only to be incognito since. The issue is Bakar doesn’t have a phone, so when he isn’t connected to the Internet, he’s off the grid. 

 “It shouldn’t be taking him this long,” she keeps saying. “I’m trying to convince him to get a phone. A burner might have to do for days like today,” she continues, now looking up from her phone, still befuddled as to where in London Bakar could be. 

 When he finally does arrive, he walks in with an all black ‘fit: black hoodie, black Nike Off-White blazers, and a black beanie. He takes a seat, puts down his cracked red iPod, and orders a tea. Someone recognizes him at a table behind us. It’s hard to tell if the recognition is mutual, but Bakar nods to him.

 “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says as he adjusts his chair and explains his absence. He was in Paris until late the night before wrapping up a shoot for “Sober,” his new track with French producer Sebastian. He couldn't find the cafe after he took the public transport here instead of an Uber. “I gotta remain underground,” he says. “It’s where everything happens for me.” 

 Before he drifts back away into the London abyss, office had the opportunity to have some coffee with Bakar and chat about his balancing act. 

 It can be hard to find time for yourself in such a fast city like London. What are some things you do besides making music to really focus on yourself? 

 Maaan, that’s a really good question. Sometimes I don't. It’s that simple, but I always have an understanding that I need to. 

 Sometimes, you might never be alone in this city. It’s good to find time for yourself, find shit to do, but what do I do? I go to football games. I use Arsenal as almost like a therapy tank. I go to all the games for the most part, and just that ritual of going there and being with normal ass people—that’s one of my ways. And also just sitting at home or like the Tube, just being one—it sounds so Zenny. I’m on public transport, and it’s one of the last things I can hold onto and just be on there on my own. 

 People are always using their phones on the Tube. You don't have one so what do you do?

I just got this iPod. I’ll just listen to audiobooks and shit, or maybe I won't and just listen to myself.

 What are some audiobooks you like? 

Yo, I'm listening to one right now—it’s game changing: When Things Fall Apart by this lady Pema Chödrön. She’s a Buddhist and has the craziest story, and she gives these chapter teachings on mindfulness and being aware. I love all that, you know what I mean? Some of it goes over my head, but a lot of it really sticks with me.

I’ve been digging your new project, Will You Be My Yellow? It’s definitely more mellow than your first project Badkid. How are you feeling about it, and what’s the reception been like? 

Oh yeah, it’s more mellow than Badkid for sure, but there are those parts on Badkid too. It’s just a different time of my life. I might have been a bit more angry, but I think Yellow is just as angsty. It’s just channeled in different ways. 

 But yeah, the reception has been great. In 2019, it's especially hard to gauge. I feel like people are afraid to say if they don’t like it, so you get a bunch of praise which you're grateful for, but it's just water off a duck's back. I have a core group of people whose opinions matter to me, not to say my fans’ opinions don’t matter. I just can't really read into it that much. I always want more, and it's a Catch-22. 

It’s different than the kind of energy on some of your older tracks off Badkid like “4am,” that kind of coming down energy that can suddenly change by a person or a moment that makes you like you're coming up again.

Well, it’s funny because “Badlands” and “4am” are like brother and sister—they’re basically meant to be set in the same club called The Box. It’s a place we would always go. The introspective part of “Badlands” is like the same world as “4am.” 

 It’s just that feeling of like, I’m at a party or whatever, and I’ve hit that stage of being fucked up, and I’m just like looking at it from a bird’s eye view. I don’t want to get as dramatic as saying out of body, but you have that moment when you’re just so fucked up and everyone’s having fun or whatever, or maybe not, but you just get that freeze frame moment when you’re looking at everything. You’re either like, “Fuck this is fire” or you’re like, “This is shit, what’s going on?” It’s that kind of moment, and then a flick of a switch later, it can just go crazy. 

You captured that feeling well in the “Badlands” video.

I honestly thought I could’ve done that video better, but you live and you learn.

Why do you say that?

I just think I could’ve articulated that feeling a bit better.

Well, whenever I show friends your music, I show them that video...

You show ‘em that one? That track was almost the title track of the whole project. The first four bars of that song to me sum up the whole of Badkid…

 “It's grim all day, we're down in the dungeons

Livin' in a town of hard times called London

Looking for a job cause your job's redundant

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Fuck it all off and go to the function”

That sums up the project, and in four bars, I really think I summed up me and my friends’ reality, maybe even my generation in London: Reality is grim, it’s hard, it’s cold, you lost a job, because it’s fucked up. But you know what? Who cares? Let's go party, and forget about it. 



“Hell N Back” was a new evolution for you. It felt a lot more full than some of your older music that’s more loose and raw. It felt like something a lot of people would get down to, you know? 

I felt like that about songs on Badkid though. I felt like that about “All In,” about “Big Dreams.” I’ve been trying to do this, having songs that have a big message and sound big at the same time. Big song, big message—that’s always been my intention, and not much has changed. “Hell N Back” is in the same vain: a song when you first hear it, you're like, “Oh my god, this sounds like everyone can like it” type of thing.

And that’s not a bad thing. 

No, that’s the best thing! Like what. I’m never that dude who’s like, “Nah, I don't want anyone to hear my music.” That’s never been my mission. My mission has been to get as many people to hear this as possible, so if I can make it sound great, that’s really the mission…but yeah, same formula really. 

How you got here is inspiring. It seems like you just decided to start fucking around with looping one day. You just did it off the cuff and then threw your stuff on Soundcloud. What would you say to people who feel held back from creating, because they might feel like they don't know enough about music or art or whatever they’re trying to put out? 

That’s bullshit—that’s what I would say, number one. People prove that all the time. In rap, that gets proven wrong every single day. You don’t need to have anything. There’s no right way, you know what I'm saying? The easiest, most successful way for you to channel whatever you’re trying to channel... that’s the way.

For me, it was like, okay, I have a laptop. It has GarageBand on it; I know how to rip music; I know how to count bars, so let me try.

Can you play guitar? 

I can’t play, but I can find my way. Same with keyboard, I can write a song. This week I've been writing songs on piano. I’ve had piano lessons and stuff, but I can’t play for shit, but I can find my way. I’ll write a song, and I’ll take it to my producer Zach. It’s however you find your way man. 

For me, I picked up guitar, and I was like, “I can find a chord that I like. I can find a key that I like to sing in, and I can run with it.” That’s why I looped guitar loops that weren’t mine. I tried playing, and it wasn't coming naturally. What did come naturally was being a fucking music stealer, being a vandal. Looping shit up the same way Dilla looped shit, you know what I mean? It’s the same cycle, the same way Madlib steals shit. I was like, these are all my heroes. I know Madlib can’t play guitar, but he can fucking chop up a sample… that’s how I looked at it. 

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You’re about to head to the states for a couple shows. What’s your live show like? 

 The live show is a rollercoaster, an emotional rollercoaster. It gets chaotic, because some songs are like that, but you might be crying during "Small Town Girl” or “Cntrl Alt Del,” moments that are way more intimate. 

I’ve just gotten to the point where I can probably play like an hour set, and up until now, we’ve always played in quite a punk way. We just like tear the songs apart and just fucking have a lack of regard for perfection. It’s more just about the feeling of it, and we get that across real well. Now, it’s not about moving from the punk aesthetic of how we play our shows, but rather developing and broadening it. We’re just better as a band, better with our instruments. I’m better at singing, and it should be a little bit tighter. I don't want to say the word polished, because that's not the right word. 

A little more planned out maybe? 

Yeah, you know what I mean. I kind of have to now. I’m playing for like 1,600 people in London. 

I mean, I don’t know if you have to. One of the things fans like about your music is that it feels really raw. 

 Yeah, and it should remain like that. That’s us as humans. I'm never going to lose that, but it should develop. I don't want to keep on playing the same show forever, you know? Like I said, things are out of our control. My two guitarists are better guitarists than they were a year ago. I can’t control that; they just are better now. Even with Badkid… my keyboard player is an incredible musician that I've been limiting to play basically primary colors, because that’s how I designed it. Now I want to give him the lead to do more. There’s space for more color. 
 How would you describe the color yellow? 

Bro, I have this amazing explanation somewhere… because someone sent me this thing, I’m paraphrasing, so let me see if I can find it. [He scrolls through his iPod touch.]

It changed my perception of the color yellow. That’s what I love about making stuff and just putting it out; people help you along the way with your own perceptions of what you’re making. Sometimes you’re so inside it that it’s hard to see outside and around it. Someone sent me this thing that said, “Yellow is a truly joyous and radiant color. It exudes warmth, radiance and vitality. It is the happiest of colors, yellow signifies communication, enlightenment, sunlight and spirituality. If your treasured color is yellow, you look forward to the future. You are intellectual, highly imaginative and idealistic. You have a cheerful spirit and an expectation of greater happiness.” I just found that really interesting. Sorry I just went off on a tangent.

So you connect with yellow a lot… do you wear it a lot? I find it hard to wear yellow. 

Yeah, yeah. Yes and no. I do wear yellow. 

What are some of your favorite spots to shop in London? 

 It’s becoming harder and harder nowadays. We had a dull two years, but it’s getting better now. My three favorite spots are Good Hood, Dover Street Market, and Machine. I like Good Hood more than anything actually. Those are the ones, because I have friends that work there, and it suits my taste. But then also, I’m in Uniqlo and Gap. I’d say I'm in vintage stores, but it’s quiet for all the vintage stores in London. They’ve all realized that thrifting is a trendy thing, and they’ve taken advantage of that as they probably should’ve in a business sense… 

Yeah, all you gotta do is walk down Brick Lane to see that. 

 Yeah exactly, it’s not vintage. It might as well be on the High Street, because they’re selling jackets for High Street prices. That’s a bit annoying, but yeah, there’s cool places. One of a Kind is actually a genuine vintage store on Portobello Road. They sell really old Vivienne Westwood from when she had her shop on Kings Road back in the day, like all rare punk pieces and stuff. 

How’d the logo for Badkid come about?

One of my good friends just drew it one day, and I was like, “Oh my god, that’s my logo. Done. Thank you very much.”

Do you want to start designing your own stuff? 

Uhhh no, but I want to be involved. I want to make Badkid into its own thing. I did Badkid the project, and Badkid will always be my nickname, but I want Badkid to be its own brand—but I’m hesitant to say brand. 

We always find a way to do cool products, and I don't want it to necessarily be a merch thing. I want it to have more space than that, like a really cool old school streetwear brand when there were actually cool streetwear brands. You have luxury streetwear and all this other shit which is fire, but I feel like you don't have like raw streetwear brands. Like you remember A New York Thing and stuff like that? Yeah man, I just want to see a really cool streetwear brand, and I want Badkid to be that. 

Behind The Curtain Podcast (8 Episodes)

In 2019, I had the opportunity to live in South Africa. I worked for a community radio station based in Paarl, a rural city outside of Cape Town.

I dedicated my weekly radio program to exploring the legacy and impact of aparhtied on South Africa’s music and Paarl culture. “Behind The Curtain” blended journalism with audio documentary storytelling to open the curtain on those who have made a difference in their community through music, the arts, and more, but whose stories have remained suppressed until now.

The name was inspired by the story of South African jazz saxophonist Winston Mankunku, who in 1964 was forced to play concerts from behind a curtain due to apartheid regulations. BTC will honor Mankunku's legacy by opening the curtain covering those who have made a difference in their community through music, the arts, and more, but whose stories have remained suppressed until now. Mixes will blend classic and contemporary South African sounds with jazz, soul, R&B, and more, looking to unify SA sounds the music soundtracking the world.

Check out all 8 episodes, on Mixcloud here

SXSW Music Review: Kokoko!

Originally published in The Austin Chronicle.

Tuesday night, as a mismatched crowd of SXSW Music nomads and Rico Nasty die-hards waited for Kokoko! at the old Emo’s – now Main and Main II – the collective high from Japanese grind punks Otoboke Beaver’s opening act soon waned into curious confusion. A filling room watched traditional guitars and drums being replaced with instruments made from trash.

In slid a drum set made out of duct-taped wood slabs stabilized by a heavy bag of pebbles. At the front of the stage sat percussive instruments fashioned out of bowls and empty bottles of laundry detergent and soda, along with hand-carved stringed instruments held together by paint cans. The only familiar pieces of musical instrumentation were the electronic controllers and interfaces that sat next to a laptop at the back of the downstairs main stage.

Uncertainty lingered until a “ko-ko-ko” chant emerged from the back of the crowd. The urgent call was led by Kokoko! singer/percussionist Makara Bianko, who yelled into a bedazzled megaphone and withered toward the stage wearing a yellow jumpsuit and after-dilation sunglasses. Bianko and the rest of the five-man band on stage also in yellow had made it to SXSW all the way from Kinshasa, the capital of Congo, to showcase truly DIY music.

Described variously as Congolese electro-junk and Congotronics, Kokoko! fuses a percussion-heavy clamor of recycled instrumentation with experimental electronic music. 

A 40-minute spew of continuous energy, the group’s SXSW debut felt like a tribal drum circle inside a futuristic nightclub. Songs melded into one continuous heart beating oscillation between anxious buildup and cathartic release. Rhythms rooted in chants and drum patterns rose into modern electronica with the introduction of computerized melodies formed by thumping 808s, hypnotic tech synth loops, and industrial thrust.

Chanting intensified as beats churned toward crescendos resolved by improvised percussion solos, cymbal splashes, and chimes from upside-down metal trash can tops, bowls, and pans. During crowd favorite “Azo Toke,” “ko-ko-ko” chants stabilized upbeat dancehall, while remnants of ESG’s No Wave disco permeated wiggling closer “Affaire a Mbongo.”

Focusing euphoria out of chaos, Kokoko! returned music-making to its initial purpose: to empower, unite, and overcome

Arturo Sandoval Sounds His Horn

Story published in The Austin Chronicle.


“I gotta tell you,” begins Arturo Sandoval during a break from his morning espresso, cigar, and practice routine. “It’s impossible to fight the lack of support of our beloved music.”

His words sparkle through the phone with the effervescence typically permeating from the 10 time Grammy winner’s trumpet. Each sentence, like each note, illuminates candid projections of the Cuban-American’s lively conscious.

“I’ve lived in this country for 30 years and I’ve never seen one minute of jazz on television,” continues Sandoval’s diagnosis for why jazz free fell from mainstream popularity. “I really consider that a crime. It’s impossible to fight the lack of media support of our beloved music.”

The trumpeter says it takes deep concentration to appreciate such an improvised art form. Jazz has struggled to shake its classical canonization, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t evolving in exciting ways.

Just look at Sandoval.

The artist transformed trumpeting with high note virtuosity in the 80's, and since Dizzy Gillespie’s most vivacious protege has worked with countless icons from Tito Puente to Alicia Keys.

It wasn’t until this past year that Sandoval, at 69, put out his first duets project, Ultimate Duets. From Stevie Wonder to Pharrell, legends old and new reimagined their favorite classics under Sandoval’s tutelage.

The maestro gets most giddy reflecting on his newest passion, scoring films. He says he knew such was a calling when he’d repeatedly get shushed at the movies for humming the sounds swirling his head.

“I can’t help it man, every time” he says giggling. “I always do because I imagine melodies, sequences and things in my mind when I watch.”

The tick led Sandoval to score Clint Eastwood’s 2018 mystery, The Mule. Perhaps working on an Oscar nominee will keep him quiet, which at least he is when asked about what lies ahead.

“I don’t make plans for the future,” Sandoval says. "If you want to see god laughing very hard, tell him about your plans because at the end, he’s got plans for you.” -

Full Q&A Below:

Austin Chronicle: You’re coming off a busy year. How are you doing today, Arturo? 

Arturo Sandoval: I’m doing beautiful. I’m happy that I got up this morning and I’m still breathing without any machines. That’s a reason to be happy. 

AC: Let’s take things back a bit. Can you recall the moment in your life when you first fell in love with jazz?

AS: The first thing I did was play traditional Cuban Music. I was 11 years old. When I was 14, I got a scholarship to get classical training at the Conservatory of Music. I started playing in a big band, but I had never heard of any jazz music until a journalist asked me if I was aware of jazz.

I said, “No, no, I’ve never heard of that.” Then he played me a Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker record. Wow, that was it, man [laughs]. That turned my head upside down and since that day I’ve been trying to learn jazz. I’m still learning! It’s an endless career.

AC: How’d you go about listening to jazz and progressing as a player when it was such a restricted art form in Cuba? Is it true you were arrested once for listening to jazz?

AS: That’s correct, yes. You know, I listened to the The Voice of America Jazz Hour, which was a radio program broadcast every day from Washington and hosted by the late, great Willis Conover. That was the only way we had to listen to jazz and that’s what I did every day for so many years.

Jazz is a language. It’s something you have to put in your soul, your blood, and in your brain. I believe there’s only one way of learning jazz, and that’s to listen. A friend of mine used to say three words that have been very good to me. He said, “Imitate, emulate, create.” In that order.

You have to start imitating your heroes and then when you really feel you've grown up, you start to emulate your heroes, which is normal. Then you start to feel a little more confidence in your ideas and skills. The end of the process is to create – create your own voice, create your own style, create your own music.

AC: You lived through some of jazz’s golden age and were so instrumental to growing the genre. Why do you think jazz fell out of popularity and what will it take for it to return to its former status?

AS: I gotta tell you... It’s impossible to fight against the lack of support of our beloved music. I’ve lived in this country for 30 years and I’ve never seen one minute of jazz on television. I really consider that a crime, because I am positive that jazz is the most profound and incredible art form that has been created in the United States. There are people, young people, who are not aware of that and it’s not their fault, because they don't have a way to know that information.

AC: What advice would you give to a young music fan who’s interested in jazz but isn’t sure how to listen and appreciate it?

AS: You have to really pay attention to the stage and what the musicians are sharing with you. It’s not music you can be talking during or thinking about something else. It's like listening to Mozart or a symphony. You have to really concentrate to start to understand what’s going on, what improvisation means, and the value of creation on the spot.

The musician is giving the audience their soul, their feeling, their way of thinking, the message transmitted to them from the bottom of their heart. That’s something you have to learn how to listen to.

AC: You recently scored Clint Eastwood’s film The Mule. What makes scoring appealing to you at this stage of your career? Is it true you can’t go to movies without humming along to the film?

AS: Haha, where’d you get that? You know what? That's very true. I can't help it, man – every time. I always do it, because I imagine melodies, sequences, and things in my mind when I watch. I enjoy scoring so much you can’t believe it. I am so grateful and happy, because working with Clint was such an honor. 

You know, when you start looking at movies without music and you create something and include it, you start to realize what the music is capable to do. The magic of the music when you add it to the film; it's amazing how it can make such an incredible difference. It’s so rewarding when you play it back and see how the movie gets enhanced from the music.

AC: Are you interested in scoring more films in the future? What else are you curious to do that you haven’t yet?

AS: I gotta tell you my way of thinking. I don’t make plans for the future. I concentrate on these 24 hours. I enjoy very much what somebody told me once. They said, “If you want to see God laughing very hard, tell him about your plans.” Oh man, I love that one because at the end, he’s got plans for you.



Album Review: The Sound of Science (Jeffrey Zeigler/Golden Hornet)

Review Published in The Austin Chronicle. Read online version here

Cello-led neoclassical arrangements modulated by modern electro grooves, The Sound of Scienceimplores the dystopia of a world led by science deniers. Dexterous cellist formerly of the Kronos Quartet, Jeffrey Zeigler preforms an eight-track project produced by Graham Reynolds and his local chamber music laboratory, Golden Hornet. The two principals enlist renowned composers from around the globe to meld soundscapes inspired by a scientist of their choosing. Opener "The Brain" conveys chaotic neuron firings as Reynolds interprets UT neuroscientist Kristen Harris through a buzzing barrage of cosmic synths, scissoring snares, reverb-gated kicks, and swarming cello reminiscent of Rimsky-Korsakov's "The Flight of the Bumblebee." Tragic strings on Sarah Lipstate's "Radiation in Moderation" paint an isotopic apocalypse inspired by Marie Curie, while Paola Prestini and climatologist Andrew Kruczkiewicz's "From Bones to Fossils" employs meandering strums devolving from life to death in imagining climate change's drowning potential. Earth no longer habitable, Zeigler's ethereal playing on Felipe Pérez Santiago's "Quest" fuels an intergalactic journey interrupted by meteor showers of industrial kicks and space invader statics influenced by astronomer Jill Tarter. If R&B can prime us for love, punk for rebellion, and rock for revolution, The Sound of Science confirms that music can help us cope with and challenge the ongoing attack on scientific fact. Accompanied by methodical visuals, Zeigler plans on completing the entire experience live here at Fusebox Festival in April.

4.5/5

ACL Live Review: Moses Sumney

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

ACL fosters euphoria, but dance parties hardly jibe with a sexual predator on the highest court and global warming hell arriving in 2040. Moses Sumney’s Sunday afternoon set in the Tito’s Tent didn’t so much distract from the existential dread as it exaggerated his own, moving a transfixed festival crowd to tears through vulnerable introspection.

“You could be partying, but you chose to be crying,” pointed out the singer behind Matrix-esque sunglasses and a mystical, all-black, cloaked suit fit for a funeral on Mars.

The Ghana-raised, L.A.-based crooner was right. We could have easily been losing our dome to X Ambassadors or Janelle Monáe, but we chose to wallow in Sumney’s torment because it helped manage that of our own. His melodramatic electro-folk crosses Sufjan Stevens and Björk as it wrestles with his biggest quandary: how to operate as a romantic in a society that conditions your self-worth around fleeting, socially defined emotions such as love.

With the help of a three-piece rhythm section, Sumney drank tea and delivered rare microtonal range with ethereal ease. Gripping the crowd with his vocals and more, he spent an entire verse holding the hand of a mesmerized woman in the front row during his cover of Björk’s “Come to Me.” It’s strange watching someone with such a transcendent voice having to wrestle so much of their own value as demonstrated on abandoned hymn “Lonely World” and the sex-avoidant “Make Out in My Car.”

On “Doomed,” he wondered if being impervious to love renders his life meaningless.

However tragic the ruminations, they proved beautiful by representing a once lost soul finding his path by the grace of his own voice. His croons are so operatic, so vast, so textured, that they implore the multiplicity of the human experience, each note filling love’s void with a chaotic catharsis of fear, hope, comfort, and loss. A loop pedal layering buzzing vibratos behind the singer’s high velvet falsettos only heightened the evocative experience.

Make no mistake, however: Moses Sumney’s natural ability to oscillate between octaves on a whim pitted our stomach, dropped our jaw, and eased our pain.

ACL Live Review: Travis Scott

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Travis Scott’s music is too sporadic, momentary, and Auto-Tuned to succeed anywhere but within the ephemeral conscious of the smartphone generation. His weekend one closing set on Sunday proved songs are merely the Houston rapper’s overture.

Like metal or punk, Scott’s mystique is only realized in a live setting. The Houston rapper embodies the “La Flame” moniker because his concerts set venues ablaze, inciting more mosh pits, riots, and hysteria with each show. None of this was lost on Juul-ripping Snapchatters who arrived early for Scott’s 8:45pm set. 

They waited for their their god with the cooped-up anticipation of a football team before taking the field. Some stretched, others hyped each other up by giving their friends dead arms and screaming “Travis, Travis, Travis,” as if they really believed Scott could hear them tucked away in his RV. As the appointed hour ticked past with no sign of the MC, questions bristled through an impatient crowd.

“Why even get on the plane after that hypnotic SNL performance last night?” wondered one fan no older than 15.

“Did he not get the memo that Childish Gambino broke his ankle and C3 needed him to play weekend one too?” another asked.

Finally, at 8:55 sharp, stage screens turned black before a cheeky intro asked, “Where in the world, but Astroworld, can you have so much fun?” Scott adored the Houston-area theme park as a kid, and was devastated by its premature closure. His new album takes the park’s title, but like much of his catalog, hovers through a projection of Scott’s memory.

As such, his ACL set brought us through the album’s gold, wide-mouthed cover and into the grounds of his own Astroworld

Beginning with the paranoid “Stargazing,” Scott toured his discography’s biggest attractions. From the bone-chilling “Mamacita” to the club conundrum of “No Bystanders,” hits old and new built momentum like the slow crawl to the top of a roller coaster before 808s dropped, smoke and fire shot through the air, and Scott’s rasp brought the crowd to a moshing frenzy. During “Goosebumps,” the rapper brought a high school kid onstage to perform his biggest hit to date. Pubescent vocals radicalized by the mic’s Auto-Tuning, the moment moved the youngster, Scott, and the crowd to reckless abandon.

Astroworld’s theme park trope reflects the ups and downs of Scott’s childhood, but starting 10 minutes late and ending 15 minutes early, the condensed set only made time for the highs. Introspective slow cuts such as “90210” and “Maria I’m Drunk” were left out for more obliterating hits “Sicko Mode” and “Butterfly Effect.” Instead of the roller-coaster ride finishing after its biggest drop, it looped back to free fall again and again.

Set List

“Stargazing”
“Carousel”
“Mamacita”
“Way Back”
“4 AM” (2 Chainz ft. Travis Scott)
“Dark Knight Dummo” (Trippie Redd ft. Travis Scott)
“No Bystanders”
“Butterfly Effect”
“Skyfall”
“Through the Late Night”
“Upper Echelon”
“Skeletons”
“Beibs in the Trap”
“Antidote”
“Goosebumps”
“Sicko Mode”

ACL Live Review: Blood Orange

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Devonté Hynes’ ACL debut began with a prophecy his Saturday set soon fulfilled.
“We are not limited by biology.
We get to make ourselves.
And we get to make our families.”

The monologue by writer and activist Janet Mock appears on the singer’s recent Negro Swan track, “Family.” As it came to a close, the British multi-instrumentalist took the stage draped in a Blood Orange-branded bandanna and his patented white tank.

Hynes self-describes as sexually fluid and much of his music as Blood Orange reflects the search for refuge in our heteronormative culture. During a Saturday dinnertime slot, he found it on the ACL stage. Free as a kid singing to a hairbrush in the comfort of his room, Hynes commanded the stage with calm confidence as he danced and juggled between instruments.

Thumping 808s on “Saint” livened a crowd battered by the day’s heat, while “Out of Your League” and “Charcoal Baby” had them bobbing like broken bobbleheads to the track’s rubbery funk accents. The Negro Swan cuts set the tone for the 32-year-old Londoner’s set as the bandleader, and a sixpiece ensemble delivered a constant flow of sunny melodies over sparse, dystopian, Eighties dance-pop instrumentals that commingled synth blips with bursts of jazzy horns and lush grand piano and guitar from Hynes.

The mastermind behind these deep textures made sure each member of the ensemble got their close-up. Rhythm sectioners soloed often, and the most impressive vocal performance of the show came from backup singer Ian Isiah during gospel ballad “Holy Will.” He and crooner Eva Tolkin brought depth to Blood Orange’s airy melodies throughout.

The audience didn’t help much except during hits “You’re Not Good Enough” and “Best to You.” In fact, a predominantly white crowd couldn't truly empathize with Hynes’ reflections on the anxieties of the black experience, but his unquestioned self-love and free expression united most into a single Blood Orange family. Those grooves are universal.

ACL Live Review: Brockhampton

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

“It’s all about Brockhampton, fuck friends,” one young Brockhampton setgoer said to another on Friday as the two traded reasons why they were at the Miller Lite stage early and by themselves amongst a sea of hipsters, jersey-wearing frat bros, and high schoolers.

The packed melting pot reflected Brockhampton’s widespread appeal and how their new major label debut Iridescence debuted at No. 1 just a year after the San Marcos group undertook its first national tour.

Opener “New Orleans” saw Dom McLennon first to emerge through a smoke machine haze. As the caffeinating beat built momentum, he rapped into a mistakenly muted mic until it abruptly turned on halfway through his verse, thrusting a bewildered crowd into a riot in the blink of an eye.

Although the 13-song set was the second stop on the I’ll Be There tour for the new release, the energy peaked during the group’s hook-driven hits from last year’s Saturation trilogy of LPs. “Bleach” had the crowd belting its angelic hook a cappella, while “Sweet” moved everyone to beg for honey butter chicken biscuits with UT dropout Merlyn Wood. The blatant mix out of verses from departed MC Ameer Vann felt awkward to a crowd subconsciously expecting them. When “Gummy” skipped Vann’s bombastic verse, murmurs of his absence moved through the audience as others recited the lyrics anyway.

Iridescence resonates with upbeat techno juxtaposed by dark, Auto-Tuned, introspective lyrics. Vulnerable raps on self, sexuality, and mental health capture and spew 2018’s ethos with new pop sensibilities. It helps that Brockhampton’s live show strikes different chords when the group follows up tracks that making you want to mosh with those like “Weight” and “J’ouvert” that pivot on universal insecurities while dancing to British electro.

At just under an hour, the performance flew by in a blistering blur, possible justification for two of Iridescence’s most popular but slower songs, “Tonya” and “San Marcos,” not making the set list. A late-night show tonight at Stubb’s might corral those hits and more for those still clamoring for their favorite boy band.

ACL Fest Set List
“New Orleans”
“Zipper”
“Queer”
“Gummy”
“Star”
“Weight”
“Gold”
“Sweet”
“Honey”
“Bleach”
“J’ouvert”
“Fabric”
“Boogie”

Friday ACL Fest 2018 Record Reviews: Brockhampton (Iridescence)

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Iridescence trades the Southern trap palette of 2017 LP trilogy Saturation for a more abstract, yet expansive splatter of futurist techno-trap. Recorded over a 10-day span at Abbey Road Studios with a full choir and orchestra, the fourth album from the Texas collective erases the memory of departed MC Ameer Vann in 15 tracks. Opener "New Orleans" triumphantly announces a new sonic direction with its explosion of blown-out 808s and revving synths. Single "J'Ouvert" melds Lavaman's soca jam "Doh Blame Me" with buzzing kicks and distorted, 8-bit synths to unearth Joba's most ferocious verse to date. Meanwhile, the breathless symphony of "Weight" drowns frontman Kevin Abstract in doubt. Hooks sparse and structure loose, Iridescence redefines future pop. 

Capturing Hurricane Maria

A deep dive into the photojournalism and overall media coverage of Hurricane Maria and the challenges journalists will face covering Climate Change disasters of the future.

Angel Valentín for NPR

Angel Valentín for NPR

When a hurricane hits, photos take the surrounding world into the disaster so it can internalize the damage and help relieve its catastrophic realities. 

Such was no different when Hurricane Maria ravaged Puerto Rico and its surrounding islands in September 2017. When President Donald Trump continued to neglect and dispute the storm’s fatal facts, journalists could counter by pointing to photos that showed entire nations in absolute peril. The devastation was indisputable. 

But photos can’t tell the whole story. Following the storm the media was criticized for too often linking their coverage to Trump rather than to those profoundly affected by Maria. This helped reveal how climate change and the decimation of traditional media structures are setting journalists up to fail in their ability to adequately cover future natural disasters. 

The challenges from Maria foreshadow a possible future where the earth will burn, melt, and flood without the public’s full attention, grim possibilities that were revealed by exploring the experience of photojournalists who covered the storm and the context and condition of the media landscape that surrounds them. 

Into The Storm 

Hurricane Maria began its ruinous path on September 18th, 2017. 160 mile per hour gusts slewed through Dominica, the first category five winds to ever hit the small Caribbean island with a prior population of just over 70,000. 65 people were reported dead or missing, and 95% of the island’s buildings were damaged or destroyed.   

After seeing the lack of coverage on Dominica in the hours following the storm, photojournalist Tomas Ayuso was inspired to travel there to take pictures that would eventually appear in The Guardian and IRIN. He says the storm reminded him of Hurricane Mitch, the second deadliest Atlantic Hurricane on record that hit Honduras during Ayuso’s childhood there in 1998. 

“It (Hurricane Mitch) was a very traumatic experience,” Ayuso said via phone in Mexico City before explaining how the experience conditioned him to be drawn to places not cared about by the media. Traveling to the Dominica was his instinct but only when he arrived could he understand why it was being neglected.

“I wanted to go there since nothing was coming out of there,” Ayuso continued. “When we got there we realized why...there was nothing left.” 

Ayuso’s photograph’s captured much of the island’s in absolute ruin, but he said his work took the biggest toll on him when he saw how Maria impacted the personal lives of those living in more desolate areas of the island.  

Ayuso travelled to Point Michelle, the south east tip of Dominica where he says mudslides enveloped cars, trees, houses. There he happened upon a bewildered wandering man who told him a story how the slides also took his grandson. 

“You could tell that he had been traumatized,” Ayuso said of the man. In a scarred breathless tone he proceeded to tell Ayuso about the last time he saw his grandson. It was a few days earlier when the boy’s hand broke free from his after he was hit by a branch that would eventually washed him away with the sliding mud.

“He was just wandering hoping that he'd be dug up or something,” Ayuso continued. “It was devastating because no one had time to think about this boy because everyone was devastated equally.”

Although Ayuso didn’t get a photo of the man, he was there to report his story. Moments like these would stack up as Maria moved towards Puerto Rico. As it reared forward, photojournalists around the world including Joseph Rodríguez and Angel Valentín made it their duty to go to Puerto Rico to capture the devastation. 

On The Ground in Puerto Rico  

Both Rodríguez and Valentín have strong family ties to Puerto Rico. Valentín was born there before he moved to Miami while his parents remained in San Juan. Rodríguez’s Puerto Rican mother instilled his “Nuyorican” identity in him as a child growing up in Brooklyn. Rodríguez says that along with the violence that surrounded his adolescence led him to becoming a social documentarian focused on capturing humanity and struggle. 

In 2015 Rodríguez made his first work trip back to Puerto Rico as he began his project, “Puerto Rican Lament” that would eventually appear in The New York Times. He went to Puerto Rico four separate times to capture the human side of the economic crisis that’s plagued the island since the late nineties before it reached a crescendo in 2017 when the the US territory declared bankruptcy. 

In a media landscape where the stories that most need to be told are pushed to the margins by click bait, Rodríguez said that like most of his projects, his work covering Maria was self-assigned. His story was green lit by his New York Times editor but Rodríguez stressed his gratitude for the Economic Hardship Reporting Project, an organization that funds economic security reporting projects. 

"Most of my projects are self-assigned work,” Rodríguez said via phone in New York. “You just have to get lucky with grants.” 

Valentín monitored Maria closely from Miami as his family braved the storm.  He didn’t have any way to communicate with them so he says he wanted to get on the island as soon as possible. After getting turned away from a coast guard plane for having too much luggage (he stocked up supplies for his family), he finally made it to the island as part of NPR’s initial team a few days later.  

Upon the two men’s arrival about a week removed from the storm, Puerto Rico was starting its long reel from category five winds that knocked out 80-90 percent of the islands structures and nearly all of its power grids. 3.4 million Puerto Ricans were still in the dark with 95 percent of the islands wireless cell sites were out of service. 

Both photographers could hardly recognize their second home. 

“I felt like I was in a colonial country like Africa or someplace where the infrastructure is poor, poor electricity, poor water.” Rodríguez said. “But here I am in the 21st century looking at a part of the U.S. It was an eye opener.”  

“You think flooding is the worst thing and you get there and find people survived the flooding but now they have no power, no way to get water or cook,” Valentín added. “So you have to adapt.” 

Loaded with survival packs stocked with canned foods, satellite phones, gas, gear, and backup gear, Valentín and his reporting partner, Camila Domonos, set out to hunt for  stories through San Juan. 

Rodríguez started his journey in the Puerto Rican capital as well where he says most people were warm, upbeat, and wanting of his presence so their safety and story could be documented. Both photographers were intent on not just capturing cinematic vistas of the destruction but to also get intimate portraits of the people so they could evoke the human side of the destruction to the rest of the world. 

Many of Rodríguez’s images depicted people in the beginning stages of recovery while  others showed those wandering desperately for phone signal or waiting in line at food and water relief sites. 

FEMA’s initial failures were evident. 

“The municipality of San Juan handed out food and water, that wasn't FEMA, it was all local,” Rodríguez said. 

Such is reflected in one of his more optimistic photos published in The New York Times that features volunteers gleefully posing as they handed out food to the community of Caguas, a small town located in the central mountain range of Puerto Rico.  

“The reason why they're all jumping up and down, it's just, its solidarity,” Rodríguez said of the image. “We’re showing America that we're going to look out for our own here, we haven’t given up and we’ll fight back. 

Images like these were vital to Puerto Rico’s recovery since they spread senses of hope and relief to the island and around the world, two things Puerto Ricans weren’t getting from FEMA or President Trump. 

Puerto Ricans remained much on their own in the weeks following the storm. It took FEMA a month to provide full disaster relief to the island. While some of this was due to Trump’s negligence, FEMA released an internal report months after the storm concluding their emergency supply warehouses were too vastly depleted to handle Maria after a busy storm season that saw six major hurricanes hit around the world. 

Beyond San Juan 

The impacts of these relief failures could be felt more within remote areas of the island like Coamo and Utuado where Rodríguez and Valentín traveled next respectively. A majority of the island lacked access to drinking water in the week following the storm. Rodríguez says it was gut wrenching watching and capturing people forced to bath and cook with contaminated water from the mountains.  


“What really rocked me was going up to Utuado in the mountains and finding this woman standing in the road washing her hair in the water from the mountains,” he said. “Just a few feet over this old woman had to collect this water in this barrel. I found that to be really quite profound.” 


Valentín shared similar experiences from his time in Coamo where the town’s river became a water refuge for many on the island. He says while he was on his way there one day, he captured his most harrowing reflection of the moment many fear most after a storm: returning home. 


The image (at top of story) depicts a man named Juan Pablo whom Valentín said had just finished building out a shed next to his home before Maria hit. His house was completely destroyed and in his shed only concrete, wood, and remnants of work out machines and cooking grills remained standing. 

“What do you do when you go through a storm that kicked your ass for 12 hours and you're finally able to open the doors and come out of your house and see everything blown away,” Valentín said of the image. “You just don't know where to start and that's what these people were doing, starting the long and tiresome and emotionally draining process of trying to get some semblance of normality.” 


These stories are just snippets of the dystopia Puerto Ricans faced in the months following Maria. While they remained battered, bruised, and in the dark from disaster, 

President Trump continued his blatant negligence of his fellow American citizens in Puerto Rico. He spent the weekend following the storm golfing at his club in New Jersey and tweeting misguided and hurtful attacks on Puerto Rican leadership. He called the storm “not a catastrophe like Katrina” and only traveled there two weeks after the fact to throw paper towels at Americans whose lives were in utter and obvious ruin and to insist the death toll remained less than 20. 

Trump’s carelessness was soon counterattacked by journalists and researchers around the world. 

Analyzing The Media’s Coverage of Hurricane Maria 

After the storm’s death toll was upped from 16 to 64 in December, Washington University’s Milken Institute School of Public Health concluded a study that raised the Maria toll to 2,975 deaths, a number that has since been updated to nearly 5,000 by scientists at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. 

While journalists also helped reveal that FEMA left close to 2,000 palettes of water on a runway in Ceiba and halted FEMA’s threat to end aid just months after the storm, the media as a whole was criticized for neglecting Puerto Rico in its coverage unless the story had a connection to President Trump. 

A week after the storm the outlet FiveThirtyEight published an article titled "The Media Really Has Neglected Puerto Rico” that compared the coverage of Maria to that of other recent US natural disasters. 

According to FiveThirtyEight, in the week following the storm the phrase “national anthem” was said in more sentences on TV news than “Puerto Rico” and “Hurricane Maria” combined, a reflection of the media and Trump’s higher emphasis on the National Football League’s national anthem debate then the one of the deadliest storm to ever hit the U.S.

FiveThirtyEight also revealed that Hurricane Maria received just 1,000 sentences per day from top U.S. news outlets’ first week of coverage while coverage of Hurricane Irma and Harvey tripled that number in the week following each storm. 

These failures made the images that did come out of Hurricane Maria all the more important. Neglected by the media, it was photographs like those by Ayuso, Valentín, and Rodríguez, along with those from outlets who did cover the storm that were vital in translating the depth of the disaster to the world. Valentín says the images made up for some of the negligence surrounding the disaster.

“They kept the story going because it was such a disaster of mismanagement and poor administrative planning,” he said. “If it wasn't for the photographer’s attention, a lot of people would still be left in the dark, literally in the dark.”  

Journalism’s Landscape in Puerto Rico 

Barbara Idalissee Abadía-Rexach is a communications scholar, social anthropologist, and assistant professor at the University of Puerto Rico. She also contributes a monthly op-ed column to Puerto Rico’s most prominent national newspaper, El Nuevo Día. 

Abadía-Rexach says Puerto Ricans initially struggled to learn about the storm beyond what they were hearing within their town or community. She couldn’t grasp the enormity of Maria until she left Puerto Rico a few weeks after the storm. 

“When I went to the U.S. I started looking at the images and I realized, wow, this is huge,” Abadía-Rexach said. “I wasn’t able to watch the news here in Puerto Rico. The coverage people did from outside was great.”  

Abadía-Rexach explained how journalism’s landscape was fractured even before Maria hit Puerto Rico, contributing to the local media’s difficulties covering the storm. She says El Nuevo Dia laid off close to 50 journalists in the months leading up to the storm and a month afterwards, on October 26th, El Nuevo Día laid off 59 employees including reporters, editors, and graphic designers. 

During Maria, Abadía-Rexach says El Nuevo Día’s staff was so small they rented out much of their newsroom space to FEMA. El Nuevo Día’s struggles parallel the problems journalism faces throughout the rest of the world.   

"Nuevo Día is more about ads and short info on arts and music, not about the other important things we need to know about on the island,” Rexach said. “We need to add information to empower the people like how climate change effects the island economically, the health of the people, everything. It’s missing, I don't think we are empowered by the media we consume.”

To stay relevant within condensed attention spans more occupied by social media than news, some media companies are forced to emphasize clickbait content over more pressing stories on prominent issues. 

“It’s a lot easier to cover a Beyonce record release than it is to go to cover the impact of global warming and how a hurricane can wipe out an entire island,” Angel Valentín said. 

Abadía-Rexach says these changed attitudes towards the media are reflected in the behaviors of the students she teaches at at the University of Puerto Rico.

“Students in general here are more concerned with graphic design and public relations than journalism,” she said. “When you are in the classroom and you ask them about news on the island, they don't know…they only know what they saw on Instagram. So we are facing that problem too.” 

Future Challenges Covering Climate Change 

These journalism realities in Puerto Rico highlight just how big of a future challenge it will be to report on climate change there and in other similar small nations around the world. Not only will newsrooms continue to dwindle but the reporters who do cover natural disasters say it's difficult having to endure the intense mental toll that comes with covering natural disasters. 

“It was more painful emotionally than any story I've covered,” Angel Valentín said of his experience in Puerto Rico. “I still feel human when I sit back at the end of a day and drink a beer and smoke a cigar after listening to all these people tell their stories and unload on me, I can only shake my head like my god these people are screwed.” 

“You acquire PTSD and it just builds and builds,” Joseph Rodríguez added. “Any soldier goes through this.” 

But the photographers say they were driven to the storm because they found reassurance in the fact that their pain was a product of helping to relieve that of disaster victims, a notion that photojournalists must embrace as they plunge into climate change coverage themselves. 

“What keeps me going is the people,” Rodriguez said. “What gives me solace and hope is knowing that at least I am not sitting at home complaining on Facebook. “I’m meeting the issues head on, I'm not just reading about them.” 

Their experiences reflect how photojournalists must find value in the work’s empowering qualities rather than its potential for praise, clicks, and compensation.

“You’re going to get more traction on a story about a record or movie release than one about human suffering and the environment degradation,” Valentin said. “But what happens if we don't cover those stories?”

Valentin raises a pressing issue facing future climate change journalism. While he and the other photojournalists were able to cover Maria, Tomas Ayuso fears for when two Maria sized storms hit in two consecutive weeks and journalists are forced to choose between one devastated country from another. 

“If yearly two or three Marias hit different parts of the Americas, then the Americas are quite frankly, very bluntly, fucked,” he said. 

Lessons and Conclusions

Hurricane Maria’s dire consequences extend beyond its current repercussions when examining its coverage with respect to journalism’s future. The second most destructive US storm in over a century serves as a warning for the challenges future journalists will face providing climate change with the kind of extensive coverage it requires. 

Ayuso, Valentín, and Rodríguez agreed its journalists duty to keep digging into the important issues like climate change, but for stories to stick they must be concerted, compelling and individualized.

“If the classical definition of journalism is to bear witness and provide a record, I think that the addendum for the saturated and distracted era we live in is to bear witness, provide a record, and tell a compelling story with more of an individual take,” Ayuso said.  

For photojournalists, Rodríguez says much of that means taking a step back, slowing down, and emphasizing the stories that matter.

“I find that we as photojournalists move so quickly, almost too quickly and I believe that photography has suffered because of that,” Rodríguez said. “We need to return to the time we used to take for things. There’s an alarm bell that goes off because how much do we retain, how much of our history are we really remembering?” 

On the consumer side, the photojournalists stressed the importance of supporting local and small journalism outlets and companies like The Economic Hardship Reporting Project that made Rodríguez’s coverage possible. 

Lastly, while iPhones and social media contribute to the saturation issues plaguing journalism, they also provide the opportunity for ordinary people to become citizen journalists. Smartphones should be harnessed as tools to provide records of the events media companies can’t. If these responsibilities of both the photojournalist and the common citizen are not fulfilled, disaster victims may be forgotten and records of entire nations could wash away in climate change’s future floods. 

“Puerto Rico was lucky in a way in that we were paid attention to,” Valentin said. “But in the future if you're not being documented you essentially don't exist.” 

Works Cited:

Anderson, J. L. (2018, September 15). What Donald Trump Fails to Recognize About Hurricanes-and Leadership. Retrieved from https://www.newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/what-donald-trump-fails-to-recognize-about-hurricanesand-leadership

Barclay, E., Campbell, A. F., & Irfan, U. (2018, September 20). 4 ways Hurricane Maria changed Puerto Rico - and the rest of America. Retrieved from https://www.vox.com/2018/9/20/17871330/hurricane-maria-puerto-rico-damage-death-toll-trump

Campbell, A. F. (2017, October 16). FEMA has yet to authorize full disaster help for Puerto Rico. Retrieved from https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2017/10/3/16400510/fema-puerto-rico-hurricane

Campbell, A. F. (2018, August 15). It took 11 months to restore power to Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria. A similar crisis could happen again. Retrieved from https://www.vox.com/identities/2018/8/15/17692414/puerto-rico-power-electricity-restored-hurricane-maria

Elie, J. (2017, November 01). 'It feels like Dominica is finished': Life amid the ruins left by Hurricane Maria | Janise Elie. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2017/nov/01/it-feels-like-dominica-is-finished-life-amid-the-ruins-left-by-hurricane-maria

Harris, R. (2018, May 29). Study Puts Puerto Rico Death Toll From Hurricane Maria Near 5,000. Retrieved from https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/05/29/615120123/study-puts-puerto-rico-death-toll-at-5-000-from-hurricane-maria-in-2017

Holpuch, A. (2018, August 28). Hurricane Maria: Puerto Rico raises official death toll from 64 to 2,975. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/aug/28/hurricane-maria-new-death-toll-estimate-is-close-to-3000


Hurricane Maria's Devastation Of Puerto Rico, 1 Year Later. (2018, September 23). Retrieved from https://www.npr.org/2018/09/23/650956637/hurricane-marias-devastation-of-puerto-rico-1-year-later


Madani, D. (2018, September 13). FEMA Says It Left Puerto Rico Water Stockpile Outside To Save Money. Retrieved from https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/fema-bottled-water-hurricane-maria_us_5b9ab22ae4b0b64a336cfb3b


Mazzei, P. (2018, February 08). What Puerto Rico Is, and Isn't, Getting in Disaster Relief. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/02/08/us/puerto-rico-disaster-relief.html

Meyer, R. (2017, October 04). What's Happening With the Relief Effort in Puerto Rico? Retrieved from https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/10/what-happened-in-puerto-rico-a-timeline-of-hurricane-maria/541956/

Sullivan, L. (2018, May 02). How Puerto Rico's Debt Created A Perfect Storm Before The Storm. Retrieved from https://www.npr.org/2018/05/02/607032585/how-puerto-ricos-debt-created-a-perfect-storm-before-the-storm

© 2018 ABC News Internet Ventures. (2017, September 29). The Media Really Has Neglected Puerto Rico. Retrieved from https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/the-media-really-has-neglected-puerto-rico/



Photographer Works:

Tomas Ayuso:

https://www.irinnews.org/photo-feature/2017/10/30/dominica-s-devastation-and-recovery-pictures

Joseph Rodríguez: 

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/08/23/opinion/sunday/23EXPOSURES.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/04/opinion/sunday/puerto-rico-hurricane-maria.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/09/22/opinion/sunday/back-from-the-storm.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage

Angel Valentín

https://www.npr.org/sections/altlatino/2018/09/20/649753700/puerto-rico-one-year-after-maria

https://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2017/12/13/when-a-hurricane-hits-home-life-in-puerto-rico-after-maria/

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/aug/09/hurricane-maria-puerto-rico-six-stories


Read for Context and Background:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tt-mpuR_QHQ

https://www.newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/what-donald-trump-fails-to-recognize-about-hurricanesand-leadership

https://knightcenter.utexas.edu/blog/00-19081-investigative-journalism-critical-recovery-puerto-rico-aftermath-hurricane-maria

https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2017/11/15/16648924/puerto-rico-whitefish-contract-congress-investigation

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/aug/07/the-story-of-a-recovery-how-hurricane-maria-boosted-small-farms

https://publichealth.gwu.edu/sites/default/files/downloads/projects/PRstudy/Acertainment%20of%20the%20Estimated%20Excess%20Mortality%20from%20Hurricane%20Maria%20in%20Puerto%20Rico.pdf





Interview: Alina Baraz

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Alina Baraz made Urban Flora, her lush 2015 electro-soul debut, with a Danish producer she only knew from SoundCloud beats and Facebook messages. Two years later, the EP’s island-time single “Fantasy” went gold. The Clevelander, now 24, hits the road in support of her more polished and sexy 2018 follow-up, The Color of You. Catch her Friday at Emo’s.

Austin Chronicle: You’re embarking on your second headlining tour. How are you feeling?

Alina Baraz: I feel absolutely prepared. I’ve worked my ass off to make sure this tour is everything I wanted it to be. I’ve added so many things that I love and I’ve put a lot of time into the set, so I’m just excited. And I love starting it out in Texas. It’s my favorite place.

AC: Why’s that?

AB: They just show love. Every time I go to Texas, the fans are not afraid to sing and dance. And the food!

AC: You convinced your mother to move to California so you could pursue a singing career there while in college. She had never heard you sing, so how did she react to your idea and when’s the first time she heard you sing?

AB: It was really bizarre that she had never heard me sing. Nor had I ever told her I could sing, but I grew up in a super musical family, so she wasn’t surprised. I was like, “I need to go to California, will you do this with me?” She said yes, quit the job she had for 12 years, and sold the place she was living in. It wouldn't have all gone down the same way if she hadn’t done that. I then invited her to this singing gig for college that I was doing and she heard me sing for the first time there. I think at that point she was very convinced.

AC: What’s it like being a female in R&B today, having to compete for ears in a male-dominated mainstream rap world?

AB: It’s not really competitive to me. The only person I should be competing with is myself. There’s so many women doing what they want right now, whether it be R&B, pop, electronic. I don’t really feel that it’s overpowered.

AC: Now six months removed from its release, how do you feel about The Color of You, and how does it compare to Urban Flora?

AB: It’s everything I wanted it to be. I was really anxious to put it out, because I love how everything is different. Change is my comfort. It’s not even comparable to Urban Flora. I made that in my room, and with that, you just have yourself for criticism. No one told me their opinion, because no one knew I could sing. And I had never written a song, so I could never criticize it. I could just put it out, so there was something really pure about Urban Flora.

With The Color of You being in a studio, it was really cool being with a bunch of collaborators in the room, just because a lot of times there’s some things you won’t notice about yourself and people will just point it out to you. It's very, very different. I can almost say I prefer the studio than just being alone. I think you need both though, finding the balance is important.

AC: Before this project and your first tour, a lot of your fans only knew you from what they heard and saw about you on the computer. What’s it been like coming out from that, letting fans see your face and you see theirs?

AB: It’s like with the meet and greets, too. It feels like family more than anything. Even though writing and sharing music is already so vulnerable, I wanted to show more of myself. It definitely changed everything. I used to write only for myself and now I write for myself and people that listen to me.

AC: How will this tour feel and look different than the last time you were in Austin, last spring?

AB: The biggest difference is really in myself. I learned so much about myself as a performer and I just dove into every single little piece of the band, the transitions, the lighting, the colors, and choreography. It’s night and day.

Leon Bridges Comes Home

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

If Leon Bridges’ hypnotic ACL Fest performance in 2015 knocked the audience into a deep coma, you might not have recognized the 29-year-old soul man whose tender croons revived then three years later at the Moody Theater.

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“Ya boy really graduated from C-Boys to ACL [Fest] to here?,” Bridges asked himself midway a 90-minute Saturday night set, the first of two sold-out shows at the premiere concert hall.

Besides his dapper getup, a characteristic vintage suit, everything about the Ft. Worth native appeared more in vogue and grandiose than before. His debut album, Coming Home, went gold (sales of 500, 000), but the night’s aesthetic matched that of 2018 follow-up, Good Thing. Bridges’ second album eschews the Sam Cooke and Otis Redding paradigm by trading acoustic Sixties gospel for Seventies/Eighties neo-soul that’s stylized for the dance floor as much the bedroom.

Opening in the spirit of Usher, the singer hopped onstage a bit stiff but charming as ever as he waddled to the uptown funk of “If it Feels Good (It Must Be).” His slicked back hair glistened against a gigantic LED backdrop glowing with his initials. A fivepiece band with two guitarists stood in for the White Denim-leavened backing from the tour three years ago.

A drastic departure from the Coming Home era, the moment felt as if it were packaged for opener Masego’s futurist soul. Taken aback, the crowd failed to match Bridges’ energy until he moved into the jazz-tinged Good Thing single “Bad Bad News.” Ringing against a thumping, bell-bottom groove, the main attraction crooned with the sweet bravado necessary to move an old soul to the dance floor.

Not until Coming Home’s title track did the audience transform from timid listeners to overzealous admirers. Bridges’ effortless and instinctive vocals empowered the house to bellow along and complete the entire second verse for the soul man as he stood raising his mic back at us. That momentum carried into more cuts off Good Thing.

“Georgia to Texas” spawned chills behind a heart-plucking double bass line accentuating Bridges’ nostalgic serenade. “Mrs.” seduced with a sloppy 6/8 kick and cross-snare exchange reminiscent of D’Angelo’s Voodoo. The evening’s only blunder was that of Good Thing itself.

Overproduced, the album sounds like an obvious attempt to mimic the success of Pharell or Bruno Mars. “You Don’t Know” and “Forgive You” washed away the flavor of Bridges’ voice with unneeded electro flair. Even so, Bridges offered a far richer experience than most can with just two albums to their name.

Moments that made you want to dance were as vast as those that made you want to squeeze your squeeze, as many did when he came out for an encore performance of “River.” Similar to his delivery of the Coming Home standout in 2015, Bridges, his guitar, and backup singer Brittni Jessie held the stage alone. Three years ago, he couldn’t meld such a wide range of feeling, style, and emotion.

Say what you will about Good Thing, but live, it elicits an evolved version of Leon Bridges that will carry him to new heights and new stages. The Erwin Center is next.

KUT Audio Story: That Time ZZ Top And 80,000 Fans Trashed Memorial Stadium

Story originally aired on KUT, Austin’s NPR station. Hear it online here

Forty-four years ago tomorrow, DKR Memorial stadium hosted one of the biggest concerts in Austin's history. The Rompin' Stompin' Texas Size Barn Dance and Barbecue was hosted by Texas trio ZZ Top, with a lineup that included Santana, Bad Company, Joe Cocker and Jimmy Page – and 80,000 sweaty fans.



Album Review: Blues in The Nude by Zach Varner

Review published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Zack Varner is an experienced jazz saxophonist, but Blues in the Nude arrives as the Atlanta native's debut as composer and arranger. Varner expertly honors tradition with hard bop and swing themes while simultaneously exploring and building on the genre's evolution through tango, bossa nova, and samba-infused textures. A blues-rooted progression by the project's rhythm section jolts the opening title track before an effervescent sax solo introduces Varner. "Faux Tango #4" intros the album's Latin touch in Chick Corea meets Return to Forever fashion, while a yearning piano intro and poignant bass solo on "Russian Dog Dreams" retrieve the blues by plucking and pulling melancholy into a poetic whine. Standout "Stonehenge Throwdown" begins violently with a rhythm section wail that dissolves into creeping piano and watchful horns, which envelop you like waking up in a city ravaged by war the evening prior. The song's range speaks to that of the entire project, Varner's 15 years of experience rife with boundless invention and a desire to push modern jazz to new heights with grace, class, and ingenuity.

4/5

Meet Frederick The Younger

Swinging between piercing highs and slurring lows, Frederick the Younger frontwoman Jenni Cochran sings with the virtuosic gusto of a Seventies UK punk. She’s actually a Clevelander, who discovered her vocal range during a postgrad stay in Vietnam teaching English.

“It was such a musical culture,” offered Cochran by phone from Tupelo, Miss., first stop on FTY’s summer-ending tour. “Every school function would always involve a singing component. There’d be close to 1,000 people at these things, so I got up there and realized singing wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed.”

As she serenaded Vietnamese students with Lady Gaga covers, the duo’s other half, Aaron Craker, worked on a solo garage rock project in Louisville called Dr. Vitamin. When Cochran moved there with her parents after Nam, she stumbled upon a Dr. Vitamin show.

“She was the missing element,” says Craker of his former project, adding that they bonded over a shared love for David Bowie and the Beatles, so forging their own sound proved a work in progress. “She’d come up with fully formed songs, but it took me a bit to figure out the right chords to match them.”

The two became Frederick the Younger in 2015, and as they became closer, Craker slowly learned to accentuate, echo, and expand upon Cochran’s rich, wailing melodies with tremolo guitar sections and rich instrumentation brought to life by a dexterous rhythm section. It all manifests into a rockish, groove-pop iteration of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs combined with UK punk standouts Siouxsie & the Banshees.

“Someone said we’re like Jenny Lewis, but we rock out more,” proclaims Craker.

Hot Summer Nights Preview: Daphne Tunes

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Daphne Tunes is “Sunday Pop” because “it has to do with what everyone does on Sunday,” explains Santiago Dietche. “I try to capture that feeling when you wake up late with someone you love, usually with not much going on, so the first cup of coffee tastes that much cooler.”

Volume 1, Daphne Tunes’ debut local EP from January, falls between Neil Young’s rootsy folk and Elliott Smith’s gentle introspection. It stretches sorrow into glee with breezy guitar soundscapes, and feels like putting your hand out the window on a road trip or, as its composer puts it, “looking up at the sky and just dazing.”

Dietche began sinking deeper into Daphne Tunes after a Hot Summer Nights performance with his now expiring garage-pop band, Growl, last year.

“I was between a band that was breaking up, this loud rock & roll band, and this sad pop band,” he says. “I wanted to write something in-between those that was more me.” 

As he scans this year’s Red River music festival lineup, he realizes he’s connected to just about everyone. 

Hovvdy is a “collaborator,” he says, his bassist Andrew Stevens records with Jess Williamson, and the guys in Holy Wave used to work with him in the Alamo Drafthouse kitchen on South Lamar. 

“Oh, there’s Daphne Tunes,” Dietche exclaims. “Fourth row down on the left, first name.”

The 25-year-old Austinite is sensible about placement. Although he’s connected to the local scene, Daphne Tunes is still new to it, but a busy start to the summer highlighted by a sold-out opening slot for local surf rock stalwarts Summer Salt means more and more indieheads are catching on. Even so, don’t expect Daphne Tunes to be in small print on future lineups.

The San Marcos Music Scene Runs Deep

Story published as the cover story for August 3rd, 2018 edition of The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

ACL Fest hip-hop headliners Brockhampton might just be the tip of the iceberg from our neighbors south on I-35

On a March evening in 2016, inside the Dahlia Woods Art Gallery in San Marcos, a mixtape release party transpired unassumingly. Hosting such events regularly, the community exhibition center acts as a headquarters for local artists of the small college town. Bumping through the speakers was All-American Trash, debut release from local rap group Brockhampton.

Kevin Abstract, the song cycle's chief creative, stood at the center of the room wearing his signature motorcycle helmet. The rest of the project's producers, from UT student Merlyn Wood to Texas State music major Russell Boring, aka Joba, scattered themselves around the lightly attended event. Attendees scrolled through their phones, others sold merch, while the rest listened, sang, and danced.

By summer, the group had relocated to Los Angeles, landed a TV show on Viceland, and proceeded to drop three smash-hit albums within the span of six months.

In the process, Brockhampton redefined the mainstream's definition of a boy band. By trading bland pop for righteous rhymes intertwined with catchy choruses and cosmopolitan production, the crew brought the novelty genre under the umbrella of modern music's pre-eminent sound. And yet, on that night more than two years ago, few could have expected that the biggest hip-hop act at ACL Fest this Oct­ober – likely the most anticipated rap crew to hit a Zilker Park stage since Outkast in 2014 – would have emerged from San Marcos.

Thirty minutes down I-35, the Texas State University hub sits in the shadow of Austin. Nevertheless, its fertile music scene is thriving in its own right. Only 30 square miles and numbering some 60,000 inhabitants, the town where Stevie Ray Vaughan once sequestered himself to record has begun defying narrow city limits with raw talent and homemade support even as Austin and San Antonio inch toward becoming one metropolitan area.

Texas State University

Witness a man with no shoes jump onto the back of a moving, rainbow-painted school bus and it's easy to feel like you've receded several decades in San Marcos. For­tunately, over the last several years, that retro quirk has begun to fade. Between 2013 and 2015, San Marcos notched the fastest-growing city in America, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Texas State sparks much of the surge. Servicing 38,000 students, it became a research institution in 2016 after 19 straight years of enrollment growth. The school characterizes its hometown much like Denton is defined by the University of North Texas, the first institution in the country to offer a jazz degree. UNT remains the top choice for young musicians in the state.

Credit, in part, Thomas Clark. Before becoming the director of Texas State's School of Music, Clark held down a faculty spot at UNT.

"I had an impression all those years when I was living in Denton about San Marcos being a sleepy little college town," says Clark.

Things started to change in 2008 with Clark's arrival. At the time, Taylor Wil­kins, frontman of Austin metal act Otis the Destroyer, put together his first band, the Couch, while in his second year at Texas State.

"There weren't many people in bands that were in the Texas State music school," says Wilkins. "Denton had that, the combination of incredible jazz musicians and bands, but it was more punk rock in San Marcos – not as many musicians focused on the music."

Lack of venues to play proved one major obstacle. Case in point: After hosting 6,887 straight nights of live music, the Triple Crown closed in December 2015.

"That scattered the scene," says Steve Jones, a radio personality at Texas State radio frequency KTSW and publisher of the city's concert listing website SanMarcosTonight.com. "People at small venues picked up the slack."

Valentino's Pizza, Kiva Lounge (now named the Morgue), and Tantra Coffeehouse led the charge of local businesses adding stages to their footprint. However makeshift, this abundance lent musicians low-pressure environments to learn their practice. Accessibility thus invigorated San Marcos' live music scene.

"Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin," says Clark, adding that Texas State's population now exceeds that of UNT. "A lot of that is coming from our program."

Groups such as the neo-soul quartet Blumoon and indie rockers Lantic are coming together in Texas State music classes.

"There's been a recent increase in talent in this new crop of young bands," says Troy Vita, producer of KTSW's Studio C series, which features live performances from local bands. "We have a really good crop of student bands right now."

Sarah Street

San Marcos' proximity to Austin is beginning to attract musicians the way the state capital has over the past quarter-century.

"It's between ATX and STX to where we can get gigs in both places," offers Andrew Harkey of Blumoon. "That's a pulling factor for a lot of musicians coming here. Also, it's not Austin. Austin is very popular, musicians on every corner, but it's saturated."

Much of the scene's vibrancy occurs outside of the downtown square. From Rock Bottom's bluegrass fusion to Attic Ted's freak psych, many of San Marcos' defining acts make a name for themselves through DIY shows.

"The music scene thrives because people bust ass to put on their own shows," affirms Mackenzie Dart of Rock Bottom String Band.

While performance spaces continue multiplying, many reside in restaurants and coffee shops where families go for meals and live music stays in the background. Homemade shows remain the workaround.

"Valentino's would try to have rap shows, but it's a family pizza shop, so rappers can't be going in there flipping tables," acknowledges Kenny Casanova, rapper in the city's fast-rising rap group Pnthn. "We really had to create our own venues."

Spaces range from basements and yoga studios to bamboo forests. Anywhere that's big enough to mosh can be a venue.

"The most successful shows around town are house parties because most people are underage or they just don't wanna go to bars," says Blumoon singer Kendra Sells.

Until just recently, Sarah Street constituted the epicenter of the DIY scene. A few blocks from campus, its house parties jolted the surrounding neighborhood into the wee hours. One conductor of that energy was student-led collective Chapter 12 Records. Founded as a record label for Texas State musicians, the venture caught momentum when co-founder Michael Howard stumbled upon a string band house party show in 2014 and subsequently threw his own musical bacchanal.

"I had never seen bluegrass, never seen people doing percussion with strings and a washboard," reminisces Howard. "I thought, 'I want to showcase this as much as possible.'"

Howard and a couple of buddies moved into a house on Sarah Street and started organizing afternoon jams and evening gigs. Business bustled. The party soon sprawled out onto the block, with Chapter 12 organizing themed parties for Halloween, MLK Day, and Christmas.

As with most house parties, police soon killed the buzz. "Cops started coming around 10pm and swiftly shut down house shows," laments Casanova.

In 2017, Chapter 12 launched the Martian Arts Festival, a two-day camping experience at High Road Rocky Ranch, which sits about 20 minutes outside of downtown San Marcos. A stacked bill of local musicians and artists culminated in 500 attendees its first year and close to 900 people marked the second annual event in April. Its success prompted Chapter 12 to rebrand as Apogee Presents, a promotions company they hope becomes "the Margin Walker of San Marcos."

Still San Marcos, Not Austin

San Marcos is the 59th largest city in Texas. The music scene is young and promising, but financing careers it isn't.

"There is essentially no way to sustain a music career there," says Wilkins.

Spaces such as the Morgue and Tantra aren't Hotel Vegas or Swan Dive. They're not going to spend much on music because it isn't the lifeblood of their business. People are going to have a slice of pizza or a beer regardless of if there's a band playing.

The San Marcos Music Scene Runs Deep

ACL Fest hip-hop headliners Brockhampton might just be the tip of the iceberg from our neighbors south on I-35

BY JEREMY STEINBERGER, FRI., AUG. 3, 2018

printwrite a letter

Pnthn

On a March evening in 2016, inside the Dahlia Woods Art Gallery in San Marcos, a mixtape release party transpired unassumingly. Hosting such events regularly, the community exhibition center acts as a headquarters for local artists of the small college town. Bumping through the speakers was All-American Trash, debut release from local rap group Brockhampton.

Kevin Abstract, the song cycle's chief creative, stood at the center of the room wearing his signature motorcycle helmet. The rest of the project's producers, from UT student Merlyn Wood to Texas State music major Russell Boring, aka Joba, scattered themselves around the lightly attended event. Attendees scrolled through their phones, others sold merch, while the rest listened, sang, and danced.

By summer, the group had relocated to Los Angeles, landed a TV show on Viceland, and proceeded to drop three smash-hit albums within the span of six months.

In the process, Brockhampton redefined the mainstream's definition of a boy band. By trading bland pop for righteous rhymes intertwined with catchy choruses and cosmopolitan production, the crew brought the novelty genre under the umbrella of modern music's pre-eminent sound. And yet, on that night more than two years ago, few could have expected that the biggest hip-hop act at ACL Fest this Oct­ober – likely the most anticipated rap crew to hit a Zilker Park stage since Outkast in 2014 – would have emerged from San Marcos.

Thirty minutes down I-35, the Texas State University hub sits in the shadow of Austin. Nevertheless, its fertile music scene is thriving in its own right. Only 30 square miles and numbering some 60,000 inhabitants, the town where Stevie Ray Vaughan once sequestered himself to record has begun defying narrow city limits with raw talent and homemade support even as Austin and San Antonio inch toward becoming one metropolitan area.

Texas State University

Witness a man with no shoes jump onto the back of a moving, rainbow-painted school bus and it's easy to feel like you've receded several decades in San Marcos. For­tunately, over the last several years, that retro quirk has begun to fade. Between 2013 and 2015, San Marcos notched the fastest-growing city in America, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Texas State sparks much of the surge. Servicing 38,000 students, it became a research institution in 2016 after 19 straight years of enrollment growth. The school characterizes its hometown much like Denton is defined by the University of North Texas, the first institution in the country to offer a jazz degree. UNT remains the top choice for young musicians in the state.

TSU School of Music Director Thomas Clark (Photos by David Brendan Hall)

“Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin.” – Texas State University Music School Director Thomas Clark

Credit, in part, Thomas Clark. Before becoming the director of Texas State's School of Music, Clark held down a faculty spot at UNT.

"I had an impression all those years when I was living in Denton about San Marcos being a sleepy little college town," says Clark.

Things started to change in 2008 with Clark's arrival. At the time, Taylor Wil­kins, frontman of Austin metal act Otis the Destroyer, put together his first band, the Couch, while in his second year at Texas State.

"There weren't many people in bands that were in the Texas State music school," says Wilkins. "Denton had that, the combination of incredible jazz musicians and bands, but it was more punk rock in San Marcos – not as many musicians focused on the music."

Lack of venues to play proved one major obstacle. Case in point: After hosting 6,887 straight nights of live music, the Triple Crown closed in December 2015.

"That scattered the scene," says Steve Jones, a radio personality at Texas State radio frequency KTSW and publisher of the city's concert listing website SanMarcosTonight.com. "People at small venues picked up the slack."

Valentino's Pizza, Kiva Lounge (now named the Morgue), and Tantra Coffeehouse led the charge of local businesses adding stages to their footprint. However makeshift, this abundance lent musicians low-pressure environments to learn their practice. Accessibility thus invigorated San Marcos' live music scene.

"Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin," says Clark, adding that Texas State's population now exceeds that of UNT. "A lot of that is coming from our program."

Groups such as the neo-soul quartet Blumoon and indie rockers Lantic are coming together in Texas State music classes.

"There's been a recent increase in talent in this new crop of young bands," says Troy Vita, producer of KTSW's Studio C series, which features live performances from local bands. "We have a really good crop of student bands right now."

Sarah Street

San Marcos' proximity to Austin is beginning to attract musicians the way the state capital has over the past quarter-century.

"It's between ATX and STX to where we can get gigs in both places," offers Andrew Harkey of Blumoon. "That's a pulling factor for a lot of musicians coming here. Also, it's not Austin. Austin is very popular, musicians on every corner, but it's saturated."

Much of the scene's vibrancy occurs outside of the downtown square. From Rock Bottom's bluegrass fusion to Attic Ted's freak psych, many of San Marcos' defining acts make a name for themselves through DIY shows.

"The music scene thrives because people bust ass to put on their own shows," affirms Mackenzie Dart of Rock Bottom String Band.

While performance spaces continue multiplying, many reside in restaurants and coffee shops where families go for meals and live music stays in the background. Homemade shows remain the workaround.

"Valentino's would try to have rap shows, but it's a family pizza shop, so rappers can't be going in there flipping tables," acknowledges Kenny Casanova, rapper in the city's fast-rising rap group Pnthn. "We really had to create our own venues."

Spaces range from basements and yoga studios to bamboo forests. Anywhere that's big enough to mosh can be a venue.

"The most successful shows around town are house parties because most people are underage or they just don't wanna go to bars," says Blumoon singer Kendra Sells.

Chapter 12 Records founders Eli Zablosky (l) and Michael Howard

Until just recently, Sarah Street constituted the epicenter of the DIY scene. A few blocks from campus, its house parties jolted the surrounding neighborhood into the wee hours. One conductor of that energy was student-led collective Chapter 12 Records. Founded as a record label for Texas State musicians, the venture caught momentum when co-founder Michael Howard stumbled upon a string band house party show in 2014 and subsequently threw his own musical bacchanal.

"I had never seen bluegrass, never seen people doing percussion with strings and a washboard," reminisces Howard. "I thought, 'I want to showcase this as much as possible.'"

Howard and a couple of buddies moved into a house on Sarah Street and started organizing afternoon jams and evening gigs. Business bustled. The party soon sprawled out onto the block, with Chapter 12 organizing themed parties for Halloween, MLK Day, and Christmas.

As with most house parties, police soon killed the buzz. "Cops started coming around 10pm and swiftly shut down house shows," laments Casanova.

In 2017, Chapter 12 launched the Martian Arts Festival, a two-day camping experience at High Road Rocky Ranch, which sits about 20 minutes outside of downtown San Marcos. A stacked bill of local musicians and artists culminated in 500 attendees its first year and close to 900 people marked the second annual event in April. Its success prompted Chapter 12 to rebrand as Apogee Presents, a promotions company they hope becomes "the Margin Walker of San Marcos."

Still San Marcos, Not Austin

San Marcos is the 59th largest city in Texas. The music scene is young and promising, but financing careers it isn't.

"There is essentially no way to sustain a music career there," says Wilkins.

Spaces such as the Morgue and Tantra aren't Hotel Vegas or Swan Dive. They're not going to spend much on music because it isn't the lifeblood of their business. People are going to have a slice of pizza or a beer regardless of if there's a band playing.

BluMoon

"It's really hard in San Marcos, because no one wants to pay," grouses Cold Tony's frontman Michael Martinez.

The Tony's are among a crop of San Marcos bands that boast an established following through ample local gigging, but in a college town, most won't progress beyond that. Patrons are on student budgets, so few shell out more than a couple of dollars for a meal, let alone a cover charge.

"There's this weird gap where bars can't book bands because no one will pay a cover charge and then established bands don't want to play because they don't get compensated," reveals Eli Zablosky, head of marketing and promotion for Chapter 12/Apogee Presents.

Musicians hope a dedicated venue will bridge the gap.

"We're hurting for a good, small, indoor venue," says Alex Schultz of Rock Bottom String Band. "Young bands need a place that books shows on Monday, Tuesday, and Wed­nesday to work out their live performance on an actual sound system and an actual stage."

Before that happens, business owners need proof young San Mar­tians have room for live music in their time and budget. The city has no dedicated music store, and the only record shop in town, Superfly's Lone Star Music Emporium, closed last year.

"You gotta think about the rest of the students that don't dress like us and don't think like us," says Harkey. "The EDM culture is more widespread than the live music scene."

Not seeing cash from live gigs is a reality for most musicians in 2018. Expecting San Marcos to become a performance powerhouse that funds lives might be asking the scene to grow in ways those within it are wary. Much of San Marcos' ethos is shaped by its defiance against becoming Austin.

"San Marcos does not want to be Austin," says Rock Bottom String Band vocalist Tara Miller. "I've lived close enough to Aus­tin to see how money has destroyed what people fell in love with Austin [for] in the first place."

"We have something really authentic coming from a bunch of kids playing their hearts out simply for the love of it," adds Dart. "Just because we don't get a bunch of 'big' bands coming through I feel like many folks tend to discount us right off the bat."

Inside the Bubble

No stretch to predict another hip-hop endeavor from San Marcos hitting ACL Fest stages soon. Pnthn, a forceful 10-man rap group, have burst onto the national radar from the same small college scene Brock­hampton emerged out of just two years ago.

Where the latter coddles singable melodies, Pnthn goes for the throat with a constant stream of sharp flows over bobbing and weaving, Southern-fried production. Formed only last year, the crew's string of successful DIY shows in San Marcos has hoisted them upon a wave of momentum yet to crash. Prominent publications including Pitchfork and Lyrical Lemonade have caught on, and this weekend the MC syndicate opens for cult rap hero Lil B at Mohawk.

Although still a small scene largely built in homes, pizza shops, and espresso bars, San Marcos stakes a larger claim in trending acts Pnthn and Brockhampton, who reflect what makes the music scene exciting right now. Like a farm system in baseball, the city remains intimate enough for any local act to captivate fans and close enough to urban action for raw talents to become stars.

"San Marcos is a bubble, but any act can burst through with the support of the city," says producer Por Vida. "The people will support great music acts because they know they deserve more than to be playing in the same college town."

10 Emerging San Marcos Acts

1) Pnthn A rap group with a 10-man rotation, Pnthn has no clear starting five. From Tony Tone's coolheaded flows to Por Vida's southerly production, everyone brings a different flavor to the table. This act is deep and ready to consume.

2) Blumoon Futuristic neo-soul with hints of bossa nova and extended jazz breakdowns.

The San Marcos Music Scene Runs Deep

ACL Fest hip-hop headliners Brockhampton might just be the tip of the iceberg from our neighbors south on I-35

BY JEREMY STEINBERGER, FRI., AUG. 3, 2018

printwrite a letter

Pnthn

On a March evening in 2016, inside the Dahlia Woods Art Gallery in San Marcos, a mixtape release party transpired unassumingly. Hosting such events regularly, the community exhibition center acts as a headquarters for local artists of the small college town. Bumping through the speakers was All-American Trash, debut release from local rap group Brockhampton.

Kevin Abstract, the song cycle's chief creative, stood at the center of the room wearing his signature motorcycle helmet. The rest of the project's producers, from UT student Merlyn Wood to Texas State music major Russell Boring, aka Joba, scattered themselves around the lightly attended event. Attendees scrolled through their phones, others sold merch, while the rest listened, sang, and danced.

By summer, the group had relocated to Los Angeles, landed a TV show on Viceland, and proceeded to drop three smash-hit albums within the span of six months.

In the process, Brockhampton redefined the mainstream's definition of a boy band. By trading bland pop for righteous rhymes intertwined with catchy choruses and cosmopolitan production, the crew brought the novelty genre under the umbrella of modern music's pre-eminent sound. And yet, on that night more than two years ago, few could have expected that the biggest hip-hop act at ACL Fest this Oct­ober – likely the most anticipated rap crew to hit a Zilker Park stage since Outkast in 2014 – would have emerged from San Marcos.

Thirty minutes down I-35, the Texas State University hub sits in the shadow of Austin. Nevertheless, its fertile music scene is thriving in its own right. Only 30 square miles and numbering some 60,000 inhabitants, the town where Stevie Ray Vaughan once sequestered himself to record has begun defying narrow city limits with raw talent and homemade support even as Austin and San Antonio inch toward becoming one metropolitan area.

Texas State University

Witness a man with no shoes jump onto the back of a moving, rainbow-painted school bus and it's easy to feel like you've receded several decades in San Marcos. For­tunately, over the last several years, that retro quirk has begun to fade. Between 2013 and 2015, San Marcos notched the fastest-growing city in America, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Texas State sparks much of the surge. Servicing 38,000 students, it became a research institution in 2016 after 19 straight years of enrollment growth. The school characterizes its hometown much like Denton is defined by the University of North Texas, the first institution in the country to offer a jazz degree. UNT remains the top choice for young musicians in the state.

TSU School of Music Director Thomas Clark (Photos by David Brendan Hall)

“Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin.” – Texas State University Music School Director Thomas Clark

Credit, in part, Thomas Clark. Before becoming the director of Texas State's School of Music, Clark held down a faculty spot at UNT.

"I had an impression all those years when I was living in Denton about San Marcos being a sleepy little college town," says Clark.

Things started to change in 2008 with Clark's arrival. At the time, Taylor Wil­kins, frontman of Austin metal act Otis the Destroyer, put together his first band, the Couch, while in his second year at Texas State.

"There weren't many people in bands that were in the Texas State music school," says Wilkins. "Denton had that, the combination of incredible jazz musicians and bands, but it was more punk rock in San Marcos – not as many musicians focused on the music."

Lack of venues to play proved one major obstacle. Case in point: After hosting 6,887 straight nights of live music, the Triple Crown closed in December 2015.

"That scattered the scene," says Steve Jones, a radio personality at Texas State radio frequency KTSW and publisher of the city's concert listing website SanMarcosTonight.com. "People at small venues picked up the slack."

Valentino's Pizza, Kiva Lounge (now named the Morgue), and Tantra Coffeehouse led the charge of local businesses adding stages to their footprint. However makeshift, this abundance lent musicians low-pressure environments to learn their practice. Accessibility thus invigorated San Marcos' live music scene.

"Austin is the live music capital of the world, but San Marcos is starting to be its younger cousin," says Clark, adding that Texas State's population now exceeds that of UNT. "A lot of that is coming from our program."

Groups such as the neo-soul quartet Blumoon and indie rockers Lantic are coming together in Texas State music classes.

"There's been a recent increase in talent in this new crop of young bands," says Troy Vita, producer of KTSW's Studio C series, which features live performances from local bands. "We have a really good crop of student bands right now."

Sarah Street

San Marcos' proximity to Austin is beginning to attract musicians the way the state capital has over the past quarter-century.

"It's between ATX and STX to where we can get gigs in both places," offers Andrew Harkey of Blumoon. "That's a pulling factor for a lot of musicians coming here. Also, it's not Austin. Austin is very popular, musicians on every corner, but it's saturated."

Much of the scene's vibrancy occurs outside of the downtown square. From Rock Bottom's bluegrass fusion to Attic Ted's freak psych, many of San Marcos' defining acts make a name for themselves through DIY shows.

"The music scene thrives because people bust ass to put on their own shows," affirms Mackenzie Dart of Rock Bottom String Band.

While performance spaces continue multiplying, many reside in restaurants and coffee shops where families go for meals and live music stays in the background. Homemade shows remain the workaround.

"Valentino's would try to have rap shows, but it's a family pizza shop, so rappers can't be going in there flipping tables," acknowledges Kenny Casanova, rapper in the city's fast-rising rap group Pnthn. "We really had to create our own venues."

Spaces range from basements and yoga studios to bamboo forests. Anywhere that's big enough to mosh can be a venue.

"The most successful shows around town are house parties because most people are underage or they just don't wanna go to bars," says Blumoon singer Kendra Sells.

Chapter 12 Records founders Eli Zablosky (l) and Michael Howard

Until just recently, Sarah Street constituted the epicenter of the DIY scene. A few blocks from campus, its house parties jolted the surrounding neighborhood into the wee hours. One conductor of that energy was student-led collective Chapter 12 Records. Founded as a record label for Texas State musicians, the venture caught momentum when co-founder Michael Howard stumbled upon a string band house party show in 2014 and subsequently threw his own musical bacchanal.

"I had never seen bluegrass, never seen people doing percussion with strings and a washboard," reminisces Howard. "I thought, 'I want to showcase this as much as possible.'"

Howard and a couple of buddies moved into a house on Sarah Street and started organizing afternoon jams and evening gigs. Business bustled. The party soon sprawled out onto the block, with Chapter 12 organizing themed parties for Halloween, MLK Day, and Christmas.

As with most house parties, police soon killed the buzz. "Cops started coming around 10pm and swiftly shut down house shows," laments Casanova.

In 2017, Chapter 12 launched the Martian Arts Festival, a two-day camping experience at High Road Rocky Ranch, which sits about 20 minutes outside of downtown San Marcos. A stacked bill of local musicians and artists culminated in 500 attendees its first year and close to 900 people marked the second annual event in April. Its success prompted Chapter 12 to rebrand as Apogee Presents, a promotions company they hope becomes "the Margin Walker of San Marcos."

Still San Marcos, Not Austin

San Marcos is the 59th largest city in Texas. The music scene is young and promising, but financing careers it isn't.

"There is essentially no way to sustain a music career there," says Wilkins.

Spaces such as the Morgue and Tantra aren't Hotel Vegas or Swan Dive. They're not going to spend much on music because it isn't the lifeblood of their business. People are going to have a slice of pizza or a beer regardless of if there's a band playing.

BluMoon

"It's really hard in San Marcos, because no one wants to pay," grouses Cold Tony's frontman Michael Martinez.

The Tony's are among a crop of San Marcos bands that boast an established following through ample local gigging, but in a college town, most won't progress beyond that. Patrons are on student budgets, so few shell out more than a couple of dollars for a meal, let alone a cover charge.

"There's this weird gap where bars can't book bands because no one will pay a cover charge and then established bands don't want to play because they don't get compensated," reveals Eli Zablosky, head of marketing and promotion for Chapter 12/Apogee Presents.

Musicians hope a dedicated venue will bridge the gap.

"We're hurting for a good, small, indoor venue," says Alex Schultz of Rock Bottom String Band. "Young bands need a place that books shows on Monday, Tuesday, and Wed­nesday to work out their live performance on an actual sound system and an actual stage."

Before that happens, business owners need proof young San Mar­tians have room for live music in their time and budget. The city has no dedicated music store, and the only record shop in town, Superfly's Lone Star Music Emporium, closed last year.

"You gotta think about the rest of the students that don't dress like us and don't think like us," says Harkey. "The EDM culture is more widespread than the live music scene."

Not seeing cash from live gigs is a reality for most musicians in 2018. Expecting San Marcos to become a performance powerhouse that funds lives might be asking the scene to grow in ways those within it are wary. Much of San Marcos' ethos is shaped by its defiance against becoming Austin.

"San Marcos does not want to be Austin," says Rock Bottom String Band vocalist Tara Miller. "I've lived close enough to Aus­tin to see how money has destroyed what people fell in love with Austin [for] in the first place."

"We have something really authentic coming from a bunch of kids playing their hearts out simply for the love of it," adds Dart. "Just because we don't get a bunch of 'big' bands coming through I feel like many folks tend to discount us right off the bat."

Inside the Bubble

No stretch to predict another hip-hop endeavor from San Marcos hitting ACL Fest stages soon. Pnthn, a forceful 10-man rap group, have burst onto the national radar from the same small college scene Brock­hampton emerged out of just two years ago.

Although still a small scene largely built in homes, pizza shops, and espresso bars, San Marcos stakes a larger claim in trending acts Pnthn and Brockhampton

Where the latter coddles singable melodies, Pnthn goes for the throat with a constant stream of sharp flows over bobbing and weaving, Southern-fried production. Formed only last year, the crew's string of successful DIY shows in San Marcos has hoisted them upon a wave of momentum yet to crash. Prominent publications including Pitchfork and Lyrical Lemonade have caught on, and this weekend the MC syndicate opens for cult rap hero Lil B at Mohawk.

Although still a small scene largely built in homes, pizza shops, and espresso bars, San Marcos stakes a larger claim in trending acts Pnthn and Brockhampton, who reflect what makes the music scene exciting right now. Like a farm system in baseball, the city remains intimate enough for any local act to captivate fans and close enough to urban action for raw talents to become stars.

"San Marcos is a bubble, but any act can burst through with the support of the city," says producer Por Vida. "The people will support great music acts because they know they deserve more than to be playing in the same college town."

10 Emerging San Marcos Acts

1) Pnthn A rap group with a 10-man rotation, Pnthn has no clear starting five. From Tony Tone's coolheaded flows to Por Vida's southerly production, everyone brings a different flavor to the table. This act is deep and ready to consume.

2) Blumoon Futuristic neo-soul with hints of bossa nova and extended jazz breakdowns.

Lantic

3) Lantic Anchoring an established indie rock group on the scene, drummer Dakota Carley says their upcoming album heads forward sonically as they've learned to treat music "like nurturing a little baby."

4) Bogan Villa Psychedelic petal metal, guitarist William Wells electrifies.

5) Samantha Flowers New to music, Flowers already opened for two of her contemporary influences. Her feel-good indie-pop debuted in front of sold-out crowds for Cuco and Boy Pablo earlier this year.

6) Rusty Dusty Soulful indie with Dr. Dog and My Morning Jacket sensibilities, though hints of Americana throw a pleasant twist.

7) Moon Dunes San Marcos folk-rock that could flow from the river, this fourpiece conveys the desert psychedelia of the Doors with the earthy tone of the town they reside in.

8) Poolboi Blu Deep sample hip-hop guaranteed to keep you cool in the summer heat.

9) The Cold Tony’s Mainstay within San Marcos' house party scene, the Tony's surf rock will soon become more jazzy with the addition of sax player Jamal Edwards, who emerged from Texas State's jazz school with guitarist/vocalist Michael Martinez and bassist Andrew Harkey.

10) Clever Heads Prevail Some Red Hot Chili Peppers in a San Marcos rock band best suited for Texas road trippin'.

Bedroom Pop, Comfort for the Sad Unknown

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

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This past Friday night at Spider House, Michael Seyer, Bane’s World, and Inner Wave helped define bedroom pop.

A growing genre forming in response to music’s Auto-Tuned quest for infallibility, BP embraces human imperfection with alternative lo-fi soundscapes. Percussion strips Nineties boom-bap down to its core, while vocals sound like they were recorded on an iPhone’s Voice Memos app. Synthesizers ape Fisher Price keyboards from Toys "R" Us.

Steve Lacy and Claire Cottrill (aka Clairo) have become pioneering influences. The latter’s video for dreamy single “Pretty Girl” went viral after the Bostonian made it in bed using Photo Booth. The former’s iPhone-produced beats helped the Internet earn a 2016 Grammy nomination for their album Ego Death.

Both Seyer, from Southern California enclave Gardena, and Bane’s World principal Shane Blanchard of nearby Long Beach write and produce music entirely from their bedrooms. At 19, Seyer made his first album Ugly Boy, a thoughtful R&B meditation on self-discovery, using only GarageBand.

A slow-churning soul instrumental from the now-20-year-old producer and his band greeted a sold-out Spider House crowded with X’d out entry stamps. Staring into a plastic skull dangling from his hand, the experimentalist sang “Bad Bonez,” melting time with his 2018 album title track about confronting sins.

During “I Feel Best When I’m Alone,” Seyer’s vibrato-infested plea for alone time was juxtaposed by a seducing, Barry White-esque matte. Bedroom pop resonates with such young audiences thanks to warm instrumentals alleviating the anxieties of impending adulthood. It’s comfort music for the sad unknown.

One growing critique of the movement centers on its struggle to replicate layered, lo-fi productions onstage. In Austin, Seyer and Bane's World demonstrated the ability to improve their multi-flavored songs with live instrumentation. Blanchard tremolo-picked his way through guitar sections on “Drowsy" and “Stay Away From My Baby,” filling the room with soulful blues reminiscent of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Lenny.”

“You Bet I Stare” traversed the young crowd through the Summer of Love and “Drowsy” reinforced Blanchard’s penchant for the blues. This kind of flipping and bending through genres amongst bedroom pop artists derives from the streaming era. Nothing is off-limits because everything is a YouTube lesson away from expertise.

That musical climate makes a multifaceted group like Inner Wave possible. The L.A. crew capped the night with a Latin concoction of garage rock, psychedelia, and soul. The sunny surf rock of “American Spirits” returned the crowd to reality after the dream world of Seyer and Bane's World, who joined Inner Wave for a closing cover of “Creep” that came across as warmly as a group of friends gathered around the TV to play the Radiohead track on Rock Band.

The show’s contrast in styles and attitude showcased bedroom pop as less of a style of music and more so a reflection of a generation of like-minded artists with a DIY emphasis on song making. The common thread is a general desire to make music that looks, feels, and acts like those actually listening to it.

As tech languishes humanity, bedroom pop steals it back.