In Defense of Solitude

My heart had shriveled up from the inside out. It desperately needed water. So I tossed my hound dog Pablo in a big silver truck and sped off for the Oregon coast. Twisting two-lane highway hummed under our wheels. Italian doom metal surged through the stereo. This sonic concoction split open my veins and let life’s irrelevance drain free...

Home Is a Four-Letter Word

Number one life lesson learned so far: Memories manifest themselves in many ways. No two are ever quite the same—each one a psychological snowflake. How memory is triggered and then recalled depends on the sense through which it was conceived. One sees a memory, one hears a memory, one feels a memory, and so on...

The World I Entered Into

Like everyone who’s walked modern Earth, my story started before I began. Its first words whispered millennia ago. Ancestors I’ll never know inscribed the introduction. Every chapter maps a generation’s path. Each page is bound to a sturdy spine. These acts are my preface, not my plotline. A pen passed down, an inkwell that runneth over...

Justin Pearson: Punk Ethics

As a musical genre, punk's not commonly considered to be riddled with nuance, suggestion, or surprise. What you see is what you get. It's either on or it's off. Loud or louder. Rude, bombastic, brutal, or maybe a mix of all of the above. Like it or go home. But every now and then, someone or something comes along to challenge everything you thought you knew...

Buzz Osborne Isn’t Wrong

The Melvins? Who are the Melvins? My eyes panned down to find Smokehouse drummer sitting a few feet away on that very floor where I’d been sleeping, next to an empty turntable. It was his cigarette I smelled: Marlboro. Carefully, he rested a shiny black twelve inch onto its surface and dropped the needle. Seconds later, I found myself inundated by a sound so immense, I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut with my own steel toed boot, in the most incredible way...

Yannis Adoniou: The Art of Doing

"In those moments when we go out of the ordinary, where we’re breaking the path, this is what we remember. This is what life is based on. When everything is on schedule, on time, there’s nothing to remember. It doesn’t leave an imprint. I think that choreography, or the creation, or the timing is what moves you along. In between is you and the present, and the moment that you’re learning from..."

Tomi Paasonen: Questions & Dreams

"...I always find myself being closer to who I am when I work with nonprofessionals. I feel like I’m closer to something more authentic, something more real, something more broken if you say. Something that asks more interesting questions than forms that are perfect. Forms that are perfect remain in a sort of clinical state and don’t touch as much as when the realness of that broken form shines through. I like the periphery so much.”