"Creating People On Whom Nothing is Lost" - An educator and writer in Colorado offers insight and perspective on education, parenting, politics, pop culture, and contemporary American life.
Disclaimer - The views expressed on this site are my own and do not represent the views of my employer.
Ok, now it's getting personal ... and a matter of American pride.
The trade war and the imposition of new tariffs have come for one of the most distinctly American of products -- as homegrown as the blues, jazz, and rock-n-roll -- bourbon. Bourbon is a uniquely American spirit in that it can only be made within the boundaries of the United States, much like sparkling white wine can only be called champagne if it comes from that specific wine growing region of France. And the world thirsts for American bourbon, most specifically the country of Canada. However, in a shocking news Jim Beam Distillery has announced it will cease new production of bourbon and whiskey for the entirety of 2026:
The maker of Jim Beam bourbon whiskey will halt production at its main site in Kentucky for all of 2026. The company said in a statement it would close its distillery in Clermont until it took the “opportunity to invest in site enhancements”.
“We are always assessing production levels to best meet consumer demand and recently met with our team to discuss our volumes for 2026,” it said.
It comes as whiskey distillers in the US face uncertainty around Donald Trump’s trade tariffs, as well as declining rates of alcohol consumption. In October, the Kentucky Distillers’ Association (KDA) trade body said there was a record amount of bourbon in warehouses across the state – more than 16m barrels.
One of the primary reasons for the halt in production is the Canadian market. Granted, other factors are contributing as well, mainly an overall decrease in alcohol consumption nationally and worldwide.
"After celebrating a record year for U.S. spirits exports in 2024, this new data is very troubling for U.S. distillers,” DISCUS CEO Chris Swonge said in a press release. “Persistent trade tensions are having an immediate and adverse effect on U.S. spirits exports. There’s a growing concern that our international consumers are increasingly opting for domestically produced spirits or imports from countries other than the U.S., signaling a shift away from our great American spirits brands.” Sales are down, and that’s very bad news for one of the most iconic American bourbon brands, Jim Beam. The 230-year-old brand has decided to close down its distillery, which has been in regular operation since prohibition
Trump’s trade war has particularly angered Canada, which has led to many Canadians boycotting American products.Swonger said nowhere is this shift more pronounced than in Canada, where U.S. spirits exports plummeted 85%, falling below $10 million in the second quarter of 2025.
U.S. spirits sales in Canada declined 68% in April 2025, whereas sales of Canadian and other imported spirits rose around 3.6% each.
Canada removed its retaliatory tariff on U.S. spirits on Sept. 1, but the majority of Provinces continue to ban American spirits from their shelves.
Canada remains the only key trading partner to retaliate against U.S. spirits.
So, in the words of Adam Sandler, "If you're the only kid in town without a Christmas tree, here's [two lists] of people who are Jewish just like you and me."
In reading the book, Smash! Green Day, The Offspring, Bad Religion, NOFX, and the '90s Punk Explosion by Ian Winwood, I was struck by the significance of 1994 in the history of punk, and I was reminded of just how animated people can be by discussions of punk.
For example, when I posted about Green Day and punk, a friend quickly scoffed, "Pop-punk, maybe." That qualifier was clearly meant to demean and undercut any credibility of the band is being somehow inanthentic and truly "punk." In that regard, the slight seemed to be about the melodic, radio-friendly, and pop-based tone to the music. So, I countered: is Green Day's sound any more melodic than the Ramones? Or the Sex Pistols? Or the Clash? I'd argue not.
The primary criticism of a punk band not being authentically punk is rooted in the idea of "selling out." And that criticism is primarily based on the decision to sign with a major record label, which Green Day did in 1993 when they left Livermore's Lookout Records, where they recorded two albums, for Reprise Records whose release of Dookie went on to sell more than 20 million copies.
However, Green Day's roots in coming up the DIY way, cutting its teeth in the historic Gilman Street, discounts the petty criticism of major label signing. Obviously, the seminal punk bands like the Ramones, Sex Pistols, Clash, and more all worked with and released on major labels. And while the indie label scene wasn't as developed then, it still existed. And, of course, I think the definitive position on that issue comes from NOFX singer and founder of Fat Wreck Chords Fat Mike who asserts:
"Green Day didn't sell out. None of those bands did. They were playing their style of music, and it finally got popular. There was no selling out. Selling out is when you change your style to play music that people might like."
Finally, I would argue that Green Day put down one of the most politically charged punk rock manifestos when it released the pivotal 2000's protest LP American Idiot, which is nothing short of a scathing indictment of the hollow actions of the W Bush administration.
Oh, Generation X. The forgotten middle child of the 20th century. Sandwiched between the Boomers and their offspring the Millennials, alongside the rise of Gen Z (a Generation X derivative, by the way), it has almost become a sport to note how many times GenX is overlooked in generational sociological writing, news, advertising, and more.
And, yet, despite potentially being the first generation to not over attain the White House (oh, Paul Ryan, what happened to you?), Generation X is now in prime middle age, accounting for majorities in Congress and in state-level politics, yet yielding far fewer CEO's and name brand business leaders. That's the theme of a recent piece in the Washington Post from opinion writer Theo Johnson who suggests, that, for the first time since they were the first latch-key kids, "Gen Xers Have the Keys to the Kingdom Again":
For Gen X, few things signaled coming of age like a house key. It was a symbol of after-school autonomy beyond the watchful eyes of authority figures. This newfound independence was as much a gift as it was a necessity; the simultaneous rise of two-income households and divorce rates in the 1970s and ’80s meant empty homes on weekday afternoons, turning a generation of children into latchkey kids.
In our formative years, Gen Xers such as myself learned to handle matters on our own and became experts in tending to our parents’ things. Freedom came with responsibilities — the chores and homework, the watching over siblings and the not breaking stuff. But for a little part of each weekday, we had the keys to the kingdom.
Now middle-aged, this generation is increasingly in charge of a country in which just 17 percent of Americans have faith in government. More than 80 percent of Americans believe democracy is in crisis or facing serious challenges. The sensible step for a nation feeling this way is to undertake fundamental reforms and improve the government’s design and structure, which generations before us have done and the majority of Americans support. Instead, there’s a crippling deference to authority, the status quo and the long-standing structures of democracy, which are behaving like partisan outposts. The country is in dire need of reform and principled leadership. Is Gen X up to the job?
As you may know, I've written about Generation X numerous times in terms of its place in the world. And, Amanda Fortini recently published an impressive, well-received, and widely circulated New York Times feature on the sandwich generation, suggesting Gen X might just be "the next greatest generation":
WHEN YOU CONSIDER all the impressive work Generation X has made, it’s funny that one of the most persistent stereotypes about them is that they’re slackers — an idea perpetuated by the films “Slacker” (1990) and “Dazed and Confused” (1993), both written and directed by Richard Linklater (who has directed more than two dozen feature films, including this year’s “Blue Moon” and “Nouvelle Vague”), as well as other movies in the couch potato genre, like “Clerks,” “Singles,” “Swingers,” “Wayne’s World” and “The Big Lebowski.” Somewhere along the way, cynicism and ironic detachment became conflated with laziness. I’d also argue that Gen X was secretly ambitious for fear of the worst accusation of all: selling out. Rosie Perez, 61, whose debut role was in “Do the Right Thing,” sums up Gen X for me like this: “We didn’t really have the economics to get into certain nightclubs or restaurants or whatever. So we created our own vibe. There’s nothing slackerish about that. You know what I’m saying? And it’s, like, still relevant to this day.”
In our current moment, when artistic compromise no longer carries the slightest stigma, Gen X has some wisdom to impart about how to preserve one’s principles, even when times are hard. Because for a while now, the present has looked a lot like the recent past: Everything is commercialized, it’s impossible to find a job, rents are astronomical and reality kind of bites. But you can always make art. In romanticizing the past — a time not so connected, distracted, corporate and slick, not so bought in to easy answers — perhaps we’re longing for a world more hospitable to its creation.
And, as a Gen X writer and reader, I might also point interested parties to a relevant book from Jeff Gordinier, published quite a few years back:
In this simultaneously hilarious and incisive "manifesto for a generation that's never had much use for manifestos," Gordinier suggests that for the first time since the "Smells Like Teen Spirit"breakthrough of the early 1990s, Gen X has what it takes to rescue American culture from a state of collapse. Over the past twenty years, the so-called "slackers"have irrevocably changed countless elements of our culture-from the way we watch movies to the way we make sense of a cracked political process to the way the whole world does business.
Artists are finding it increasingly difficult to afford living and studio spaces in an increasingly large number of metro areas. A recent piece in the New York Times spotlighted the decreasing number of artists living and working in the city.
So, how about living for free in gorgeous penthouse apartment in the thriving art scene of the RiNo (River North) neighborhood in Denver? That's the opportunity with the "Residency at FLORA" program, recently spotlighted in Denver's alt-weekly Westword: Artists Can Live in a RiNo Penthouse Through New Residency
But what if they could? Not in a $1,700-a-month, 300-square-foot studio with one window, but a luxury penthouse overlooking the Platte River? That sounds too good to be true, but it’s what one RiNo apartment building is offering through a new artist residency program.
The Residency at FLORA is described as “a living, breathing creative lab where chefs, designers, writers, filmmakers, musicians and artists are invited to produce, experiment and engage.” Sounds very RiNo. Applications are being accepted through January 16; any artist selected will be awarded a furnished penthouse, a dedicated project space, a $500 stipend and collaboration opportunities with other local artists and businesses.
“It is thrilling to see this creative residency take flight at FLORA — it aligns with RiNo Art District’s mission by centering creatives expansively, and is sure to contribute mightily to the vibrancy of the district,” says new RiNo Art District Executive Director Daisy Fodness-McGowan.
What more can be said about the impact and influence of Jane Austen?
In the world of English literature, the woman from Hampshire, England, who wrote just six novels in her brief and largely uneventful life at the dawn of the nineteenth century, must be considered one of the most significant writers of her time. However, as I noted in a post yesterday about the incredible cottage industry of Austen retellings, adaptations, derivatives, and cultural events, she is also one of the most significant writers of our time as well.
Her novels have had an outsize influence in the centuries since her death. Not only are the books themselves beloved — as sharply observed portraits of British society, revolutionary narrative projects and deliciously satisfying romances — but the stories she created have so permeated culture that people around the world care deeply about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, even if they’ve never actually read “Pride and Prejudice.”
With her 250th birthday this year, the Austen Industrial Complex has kicked into high gear with festivals, parades, museum exhibits, concerts and all manner of merch, ranging from the classily apt to the flamboyantly absurd. The words “Jane mania” have been used; so has “exh-Aust-ion.”
How to capture this brief life, and the blazing impact that has spread across the globe in her wake? Without further ado: a mere sampling of the wealth, wonder and weirdness Austen has brought to our lives. After all, your semi-quincentennial doesn’t come around every day.
I have a few interesting personal connections to Jane. For one, one of my children is named after Austen, and I grew up in Alton, Illinois. What I didn't know until just a few years ago is that the Jane Austen House, which she wrote most of her novels in Alton, England. And, of course, as a long-time high school English teacher, Austen's Pride & Prejudice was a staple in my AP English curriculum. I used to introduce the 19th century novel of manners as one of the original romantic comedies.
Invention, creation, inspiration -- the fear of the blank page.
The writer -- especially the novelist and to some extent the playwright -- is tasked with the daunting job of creating something from nothing. But what if a writer simply starts with what's already been imagined and written, and then puts a unique spin on the original material? And what if the writer starts with widely known, even famous, literature that is now in the public domain? Well, that might just be the recipe for huge success. For example, I just purchased two fun re-tellings for the high school library where I work: Pride & Prejudice & Zombiesby Seth Graham-Smith and a lesser known but equally entertaining Jane Slayre from Sherri Browning.
The contemporary retelling or "classical adaptation" is a time-honored -- and occasionally quite lucrative -- tradition in literature, film, television, and theater. And the works of Jane Austen have become produced a full cottage industry of derivatives, extensions, and adaptations in the contemporary era. Whether it's the Jane Austen Mystery Series which extend the lives of Elizabeth and Darcy following the end of Pride & Prejudice or the more contemporary retelling of Austen's novel Emma in Amy Heckerling's incredibly successful film Clueless, it seems the work of Austen will literally never go out of style.
Almost from its inception, Punk was declared dead and over.
The basic idea behind that early mortality and the surprising staying power post-mortem seems to mostly to do with the belief within the early scenes -- New York's Lower East Side and London -- that once punk was on the radar of the mainstream, it was no longer punk. Pivotal music writer Lester Bang felt this way, as did the pioneering punk band Crass which delivered the song "Punk is Dead" in 1978. Mark Perry, founder of the zine Sniffin Glue, argued punk died the minute the Clash signed to a major record deal.
While it all started for me with the Ramones, Clash and Sex Pistols in the early 1980s, past the date punk was declared dead, punk actually gained steam and became the counterculture that exists to this day with the second wave punk bands and scenes sprouting up across the United States and the world. From New York to Washington, DC to Los Angeles to the Bay Area, the spirit of punk -- grounded in the DIY attitude that "I can do that, too ... even better," -- invigorated the culture of punk, and it moved beyond anything the small crew of independent musicians and writers may have imagined in the mid-70s.
Punk is an interesting phenomenon -- for something seemingly grounded in simplicity, it's actually quite a complex history discussion. And stories of punk history and scenes and culture and artists and the "punk ethos" are endlessly fascinating to me. With that in mind, I truly enjoyed this recent piece in Ultimate Guitar magazine that points to the pivotal role "two bands, two songwriters, and two labels" played in maintaining punk for what it was, is, and will become. Punk Survived Growing Pains in The '80s: But These Two Bands Are (Likely) Responsible for Saving the Genre | Ultimate Guitar
The rise and relatively quick near fall of punk is well documented in the genre's history. While early punk scenes in the UK, NYC, and LA flourished, they just as soon began to flicker, for a variety of reasons. In the UK, early leaders of the movement who had mainstream success, like The Clash and Sex Pistols, eventually fell apart, while across the Atlantic in NYC, a good chunk of the scene embraced the post-punk movement. Things went a little differently in LA, however, as I would argue the punk scene took a bigger hit, or had a higher fall from grace, than it did in either London or New York.
This is well documented, especially if you read my favorite band memoir, "Do What You Want," written by the whole Bad Religion crew. In Southern California, the scene had dried up, so to speak. Bands were shelved, broken up, and the general enthusiasm and energy from the early scene was replaced by rage, agitators, and anarchy. And then, Bad Religion released "Suffer."
"Suffer" was widely seen as the rebirth of SoCal punk and made waves across the national scene here in the US. But I'm not really here to talk about how good the music on that album is. I'm more interested in the infrastructure that would soon be built up by members of Bad Religion, namely guitarist/songwriter Brett Gurewitz. A big part of the Bad Religion story is Epitaph Records, founded by Gurewitz, but closely intertwined with the band's story. And you know what else is highly intertwined with Epitaph Records? Basically, all the punk rock that came after "Suffer."
As the band grew more successful, so too did the record label. Several bands were signed who emerged not only as commercial successes for the indie label, but as huge factors in the rise and continued development of punk in the late '80s, all the way through the 21st century. Bands who were signed included NOFX (more on them later), L7, Less Than Jake, The Offspring, The Vandals, Circle Jerks, Rancid, and Pennywise. Need I say more? The idea of a punk band and punk artist putting out other punk bands wasn't necessarily Gurewitz's original idea, but I'd argue he did it a whole lot better than Greg Ginn did with SST Records.
George Clooney is just sixty-four years old, but he has the old school Hollywood charm that has been the essence of the movie star myth since the days of Jimmy Stewart, Carey Grant, and others. And that "myth" has always been the fundamental romanticization of the lives of the glitterati. Clooney's most recent film - Jay Kelly, streaming now on Netflix - is a deceptively simple yet touchingly poignant look into that world.
The movie will, no doubt, garner numerous accolades and award nominations for Clooney, whose title character is an aging movie star just like himself facing the end of a career and a self-accounting for what sacrifices got him to where he is, and for Adam Sandler in a thoughtful and vulnerable role of the "manager" to a Hollywood star. Writer and director Noah Baumbach will almost certainly collect nominations and award for Best Original Screenplay.
I just want it noted for the record that on September 23, 2023, when Deion Sander's -- or "Coach Prime's" new CU Buffs football team was rolling to a great start, and then Bo Nix and the Oregon Duck's came to town and absolutely pasted the Colorado team 42-6 with Nix on the Duck's first drive drilling a 40+-yard touchdown pass to the corner of the end zone, I said, "The Denver Broncos should draft Bo Nix next year. I want Bo!"
And now, in one of the wonkiest years in recent NFL history, the Denver Broncos with their sophomore year QB are sitting atop the AFC West Conference with a tie-breaker lead over the New England Patriots for the number one seed while the dynastic Kansas City Chiefs are idling in third place with a sub-500 record at 6-7. And my bold prediction is the Broncos are going to the Super Bowl. And the ideal NFC opponent is another team dear to my heart, a team that has been waiting quite a while to get back on top -- The Chicago Bears.
I know, I know. Two teams with second-year quarterbacks and winning records but a a lot of close games, along with several holes in their offense and defense, amidst a league with a lot of teams like the Patriots and the Packers and the Lions and the Chargers ready to step up and take the crown. But a Denver-Chicago Super Bowl would be a heckuva game.
A recent op-ed in the Wall Street Journal suggests "When anyone can produce passable work, real talent becomes more readily apparent than ever." Thus, AI, rather than destroying or replacing human creativity, is actually a gift to the real creative people and innovators in society.
As Oscar contenders like “The Brutalist” deploy artificial intelligence to perfect foreign accents and AI-generated country tracks top the charts, anxiety is roiling the creative community. Fear mongers warn that AI will hollow out artistic expression, de-skill entire professions, and damage our capacity for original thought. It won’t. AI is ultimately a boon for creativity.
True, AI can finish work by itself without an artist, but that affects the volume of output more than the nature of human creativity. AI relieves humans not of creativity but of drudgery—the rote, time-consuming tasks that have always consumed more human energy than inspiration ever did. Artists have never defined themselves by their use of certain tools, but by what they do with them.
2025 was truly the year of AI, almost reminiscent of the date August 4, 1997 in The Terminator when Skynet, the artificial intelligence system that ultimately takes over the world, officially went online, kicking off the rapid march to machines' dominance over man. And, honestly, no one knows better the seeming instantaneous omnipresence of "everyone using AI" than teachers at nearly all levels, from elementary school to graduate programs. A quick scan of social media -- or "Teacher Twitter" -- will reveal all manner of requests, rants, and ramblings about how to address the use of AI. For writing teachers especially, it seems like a return to handwritten in-class assignments is one key response.
And, in terms of creativity, I would tend to agree with the Wall Street Journal article that when everyone is using AI to create, the landscape will take on such an obvious tech-induced/influenced style that the truly innovative and creative people will be able to stand out. As I noted in a piece on AI yesterday, I maintain that while humans were able to conceive of, envision, and create artificial intelligence, AI would never have been able to conceive of humans.
No matter how "intelligent" AI ever becomes, there is one key difference that will never change: Humans conceived of artificial intelligence, but AI could never conceive of humans.
That distinction is at the heart of this year's award for Time Magazine's "Person of the Year." The honor for 2025 -- the "person most significantly impact the news" -- has to be related to AI, which seems to have become instantly omnipresent this year. And so, Time has named the people behind AI for the award. The "person of the year" is a few key people -- The Architects of AI.
It's honestly not that difficult to imagine why these innovators are the obvious choice:
Since 1801, American leaders have gathered in Washington, D.C., to attend the Inauguration of a new President. It is a day of great tradition, one that often brings together the most powerful people in the country. Prominent at Donald Trump’s return to office in January were the chiefs of U.S. technology companies, which long have led the world. But something unexpected was happening offstage: that same day, a little-known Chinese firm called DeepSeek released a new artificial-intelligence model that spooked markets and led to a rallying cry from Silicon Valley.
The next day, tech titans Sam Altman, Larry Ellison, and Masayoshi Son appeared at the White House with an announcement of their own. They pledged to invest up to $500 billion to build AI data centers around the U.S., calling the project Stargate. Those two days foretold the year to come: global competition, astounding innovation, massive sums of money, and the alchemizing forces of public and private interests.
This was the year when artificial intelligence’s full potential roared into view, and when it became clear that there will be no turning back or opting out. Whatever the question was, AI was the answer. We saw it accelerate medical research and productivity, and seem to make the impossible possible. It was hard to read or watch anything without being confronted with news about the rapid advancement of a technology and the people driving it. Those stories unleashed a million debates about how disruptive AI would be for our lives. No business leader could talk about the future without invoking the impact of this technological revolution. No parent or teacher could ignore how their teenager or student was using it.
About a year and a half ago, I wrapped up a thirty-plus year career in public education with a plan to pursue writing and art and creativity full time. And following my heartfelt get-together with friends and colleagues from the school and English department where I worked, a colleague came into my office and gave me a wonderful parting gift. She is one of the creative writing teachers at the school, as well as being a writer herself, and she said it was time for her to pass on to me a gift given to her on her writing journey: The Artist's Way: a Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron.
For a writer and writing teacher, I was pleasantly surprised, both with the gift that has been a meaningful part of my journey, as well as the fact that I had never read nor really heard of this book before. The book is more than thirty years old now, and it has been a valuable contribution to the craft for so many people. I've been intrigued by the results of simply Googling the book, as so many writers have personal stories to share about their experience. Like this piece from Lauren Gonzales:
Eight summers ago, I found myself in a D.C. yoga studio sitting in a circle with several other women. No one was in a downward dog position, and hardly any of us were wearing stretchy pants. Any curious passerby might have assumed we were part of a support group of some kind, and in some ways, we were. We were a motley group of struggling creatives practicing The Artist's Way.
The Artist's Way is a 12-week course that helps people unlock their capacity for creativity — whether in art, at work, or in life. At its core, it's a great practice to access more delight, curiosity, and creative inquiry within your daily life. But for me, The Artist's Way grew to mean more than just a fun summer project or a tool to overcome writer's block. It helped me face my fears around trying new things, and gave me a better framework to live with the vulnerability and uncertainty that comes with life. I will gab about it to anyone who lets me in on their secret desires to pursue their artistic dream — be it tiny or grand.
One of the foundational aspects of the book, and one which people mention most frequently, is the simple practice that Cameron calls "the Morning Pages." The basic premise is grounded in two important aspects of the creative process -- clearing the mind and making a daily habit of production. Cameron's advice is to sit each morning before doing anything else and fill three full pages of handwritten reflection. I've appreciated this smooth explanation from Leah Lavelle of the Urban Wild Studio:
What are morning pages?
Imagine it is the early hours of the morning, you’ve just arisen and the world outside is still relatively calm and quiet. You pour a cup of coffee, and with a pen in hand and a blank page before you, you begin to write. Three pages of unfiltered thoughts, flowing freely from your mind onto the paper (or laptop). This is the essence of morning pages – a stream of consciousness daily ritual that holds the promise of self-awareness, and the potential for transformation and renewal.
In short, morning pages are (in the words of author Julia Cameron herself):
Three pages of longhand, stream of consciousness writing, done first thing in the morning
*There is no wrong way to do Morning Pages* They are not high art. They are not even “writing”
They are about anything and everything that crosses your mind– and they are for your eyes only
Capture your cloud thoughts; can be whining, grumpy, petty. Can be cheerful, pleasant, enlightening
Morning Pages provoke, clarify, comfort, cajole, prioritize and synchronize the day at hand
Do not overthink Morning Pages: just put three pages of anything on the page...and then do three more pages tomorrow
What are the benefits of morning pages? Why is this practice so powerful? Again, in Julia Cameron’s words, morning pages help:
Clear your mind
Become acquainted with all the corners of your psyche
Put your negative thoughts on the page so they aren’t floating around your consciousness during the day
Meet your shadow and take it out for a cup of coffee
Farewell to life as you knew it, and an intro to life as it’s going to be
Now, I will be honest in that I have tailed off the artist's way a bit since I began in the summer of 2024, and I don't even do the morning pages in the full expectation of the practice. However, I have continued the practice of daily writing reflection in the early morning, and it remains a meaningful part of my day and my creative practice.
If you're near Milwaukee, Chicago, or St. Louis, there is a Riot Grrrl wave heading your way this week. Cheap Perfume, the premier Colorado Fem-core band has a new album and are taking their unapologetically political music and their fierce live show on the road.
Since Donald Trump took office and, among other things, bolstered the ICE budget, slashed funding for important social and cultural programs, and attempted to censure trans and nonbinary folks into erasure, many people have taken to the streets in dissent. Punk music remains an important, historic form of protest, so it’s fitting that Denver femme punk outfit Cheap Perfume is set to drop a timely new album later this year.
The band has already released singles “Woke Mind Virus” and “Down to Riot” to tease the forthcoming album, Didn’t Ask. Don’t Care, which drops on October 3 via Snappy Little Numbers. Vocalist Stephanie Byrne, vocalist-guitarist Jane No, bassist Geoff Brent and drummer David Grimm have always worn their anti-capitalist, anti-fascist and pro-women political stances on their sleeves, following in the abrasive tradition of riot grrrl punk bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile.
On the new songs, Cheap Perfume, which formed in 2015, has yet again sharpened its fast-paced, shout-heavy and guitar-forward brand of feminist punk, holding nothing back in its calls for change. “A lot of the content on our new album has to do with anti-capitalism,” No explains. “So we were just writing about anti-capitalism in general and anti-fascism, and, of course, they go hand in hand with the patriarchy.”
I first encountered this incredible band about three years ago when I caught a show at the 715 Club in Denver, and my mind was blown when lead singer Stephanie Byrd literally charged into the crowd from the opening bars and drum beats with a ferocity I hadn't seen in years. Yet, I was also charmed with the cool conversations I had with Byrd and guitarist Jane No before and after the show. I wrote about the band a couple times, including this piece about their first out-of-state tour. After that short tour which included a slot at the historic Gilman Street, the band also opened up a show for Bikini Kill on the band's 2025 tour, and I felt the logical continuation of the Riot Grrrl revolution BK had begun in the early 90s.
As anyone in Denver’s punk scene knows, a Cheap Perfume show is a sonic blast of guitar chords, big drums, quick and heavy bass, and scathingly sharp yet sardonically poetic messages of social justice and empowerment. It’s also a helluva lot of fun. That’s the appeal of a band that is, as it calls itself, “fun, foul-mouthed and unapologetic.”
Now fans outside of Colorado will get the chance to experience Cheap Perfume’s sound and attitude as the band embarks on its first-ever tour this month. The self-described “fem-core punk” group will join the Atlanta-based rockers of Sarah and the Safe Word (SASW) for a West Coast run starting on April 24 at the Nile Underground in Mesa, Arizona. Then Cheap Perfume will be back to its Denver stamping grounds on Sunday, May 5, for a victory lap at the hi-dive.
The news of a “first-ever tour” may come as a surprise to local music fans who know Cheap Perfume from shows up and down the Front Range, as well as festivals. Though the band has played regularly for years, “the farthest we’ve gone was Salt Lake City last year, for Mind the Gap Fest,” says guitarist/vocalist Jane No. The band has had many tour offers, but the members finally found a time that worked for everyone.
“We’ve been together since 2015,” No says, “and it’s weird, or I guess unusual, that we haven’t toured, but that’s mostly because we all have demanding day jobs.” Just because a band has a ton of streams on Spotify doesn’t mean that pays the bills. “Meanwhile,” No dryly observes, “the CEO is a billionaire.”
This band is making some seriously good music, and CP is not to be missed if you can catch the live show at Milwaukee's X-Ray Arcade, Chicago's Liar's Club, or the Heavy Anchor in StL.
My favorite Christmas song is a rather unorthodox one in that it's not one of the traditional songs like "White Christmas" or "Carol of the Bells." It is, instead, an alternative song from a favorite indie rock band -- "2000 Miles" from Chrissie Hynde & The Pretenders.
There is just something so poignantly beautiful about this Christmas song in its sense of pathos -- longing and nostalgia and warmth and hope. The story is actually quite beautiful -- it's a bit of an elegy for a lost friend. And, it reminds me of that, old friends. Whenever I hear this song, it takes me back to working in restaurant in my small town in middle America around the holidays. This was one of several alternative Christmas songs on the mix tape, and I have such memories of cleaning up at closing time and listening to these songs. Anyone who has worked in restaurants knows what I mean.
A few other favorites from that time that always move me, sometimes to nostalgic smiles and even a bit of misty eyes included "Colorado Christmas" from the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, "Do They Know It's Christmas" from Band Aid, "Christmastime" by Smashing Pumpkins, and a beautiful play on an old classic, "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy" by David Bowie & Bing Crosby.
Well, it's time for the annual debate about what makes a movie a Christmas movie. The quintessential discussion for the past twenty years or so is whether Die Hard, the classic 1988 Bruce Willis thriller, is a Christmas movie. But I won't bother with that one -- I have another suggestion. Five years ago, I posted my own review about a classic Gen X Christmas movie. Less Than Zero, the 1987 Brat Pack film based on the novel from Bret Easton Ellis, is a perfect example of a non-traditional Christmas movie. Here are my thoughts:
Is Die Hard a Christmas movie? Does anyone really care?
What defines the “Christmas movie”? Does it have to be a feel good story like It’s a Wonderful Life, or can it just take place during the holiday season like Die Hard. Does it have to represent the holiday cheer featured in Hallmark commercials, or can it expose the cold, distant reality of authentic families during less-than-warm Christmas parties?
Thirty years ago, Clay came back to LA for Christmas, and the holiday movie was never the same. For Generation X, a group of people raised on disappointment, the cinematic version of Bret Easton Ellis’ novel Less Than Zero is a true Christmas movie exposing the hollow superficial excess of the holiday season and specifically the 1980s. A visually stunning film from cinematographer Edward Lachman, the movie captures and spotlights all the glitz of the holiday season, especially in Beverly Hills, while not looking away from the vacuous lack of substance behind the style, the holiday, and the state of the American family. Director Marek Kanievska created a haunting music video of a Christmas movie with film noir elements amidst the bright lights of holiday decorations.
I've always been a nonfiction geek, and the type of research-based commercial nonfiction that took off in the early 2000s with books like Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point: How Little Things can Make a Big Difference has always been like catnip to me. Right at the turn of the century, it seemed like there was a hunger for "ideas" and accessible writing about the latest developments in science, psychology, economics, and other traditionally "dry" reading. Writers like Gladwell, Michael Lewis, Daniel Pink, and more began churning out book length explorations of the kind of stories that used to make great airplane reading in magazines like Wired, Fast Company, Forbes, The Atlantic and countless which took off during the 90s, a true heyday of magazine writing.
I always called the writers of these books the "Ideas Gurus," and their schtick was finding obscure information in research studies and distilling it down into accessible chunks of narrative-based nonfiction writing. And at that time, as the industry grew and publishers where looking for the next big nonfiction bestseller, scholars and academics and researchers who would have never considered themselves best-selling others, much less media personalities, began to crank out some seriously cool books. Stephen Dunbar and Steven Levitt's Freakonomics: a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything immediately springs to mind.
Op-ed commentary writers like David Books also got into the game, making a nice living with books like Friedman's must-read blockbuster The World is Flat and Brooks' more niche but quirky cool Bobos in Paradise. And the one writer, other than Gladwell, who has ridden the commercial nonfiction wave to its greatest heights is Michael Lewis, the Princeton-educated English major who became a bond trader and then transitioned to a writing career with the Wall Street tell-all Liar's Poker: Rising Through the Wreckage on Wall Street. Several of Lewis' books have gone on to Hollywood stardom as well -- notably, The Blind Side, Moneyball, and The Big Short.
So, I shared my blog post about "Bandcamp not Spotify" with some friends who are in high finance and venture capital. And one of them really didn't like it. He is convinced that streaming is much better for all involved parties, especially him as a consumer who gets a nearly endless supply of practically free music on Spotify and AppleMusic. He is basically missing my point that if, as a fan, you really like a singer or band's music, you should support them more authentically by purchasing a digital product or even the physical form, for which the artist receives a much better payout.
Being a finance guy, and also someone under the age of forty, he can't understand why I can't agree that it's much better for the artist to have endless streaming fees for perpetuity, as opposed to the consumer buying the LP one time for $15.99 or the song (via the iTunes/Bandcamp model) for $0.99. He gets into all sort of finance theory terms talking about projection and .... blah, blah, blah. And I am unable to convince him that a band would rather have tens of thousands of fans buy a product and give them a large sum up front than to depend on millions of fans occasionally streaming the song for $0.0028 a listen over several years.
By the way, the artists and musicians I've heard from agree with my take, even as they acknowledge the reality of streaming and concede its benefits -- specifically the extended reach and exposure that wasn't possible before streaming. That said, we all know that while a million streams sounds impressive, that only earns the artist about $3000, and that would be divided among all band members. But, if a million or tens of millions of streams were instead the sale of ten to fifty thousand albums or CDs or digital downloads at $15, the artist would be earning hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The point is that the finance guys are not creators or producers. They don't make anything, so they can't really appreciate the value of the labor. And they like getting stuff cheap. And my original point is that if you really like an artist, you can support them by buying the product for real dollars, rather than just renting it for microscopic portions of a penny at a time.
The other day I noted that Gen Z's use of the word "bet" is the equivalent of Gen X using "word." When I said that, a colleague asked what the Millennial word was, and I glibly and somewhat sarcastically scoffed that Millennials had no word -- they just copied Gen X. That said, I think "word" remained the word for a while
With that in mind, I've noticed a strange uptick in news, or perhaps better said "commentary" on Generation X lately. Since 2025 began, there's been a steady stream of Gen X stories, features, lists, and more with an ironically heavy bit of nostalgia. The most recent one -- which I passed on to my Millennial colleague and a fellow Gen Xer who, because I work in a library and featured Coupland's pivotal novel Generation X: Tales from an Accelerated Culture, rolled her eyes and said she's never read and doesn't need a book to tell her who she is -- is an extensive and engaging piece from Gen X culture writer Amanda Fortini in the New York Times asking: "Is Generation X the Greatest Generation?"
There’s a collective fascination with Generation X, for both good and ill, as told by numerous think pieces and memes that have begun proliferating like gremlins in recent years. Most of these memes are humblebrags created by Gen X-ers themselves, applauding our toughness and resilience, honed by benign parental neglect (“The official sports drink when I was a kid,” reads a caption over a child drinking from a garden hose), or celebrating our own coolness, an aura cultivated by pretending not to care (“Them: The world is falling apart! Gen X kids: Have you ever had a bologna potato chip sandwich?”). Many express nostalgia for the lost relics of a simpler time, like mixtapes, malls, daytime soap operas, the mentholated burn of Noxzema or the ritual Friday night rental of Blockbuster videos.
According to the articles, Gen X is either the last awesome generation, despite the fact that we keep such a low profile — or maybe precisely for that reason (Vogue: “What if the cool ones are actually those unbothered people that nobody talks about?”) — or the worst, which is not news to us since we’re so self-loathing (The New York Times: “Hate Gen X? Get in Line [Behind a Gen X-er]”). There are denunciations of Gen X for not being progressive enough, or at least not as progressive as millennials (according to Gallup, as of 2022, 44 percent of Gen X-ers identify as independents and tend to vote on candidates or issues rather than by party). And then there are the hand-wringers, who either express retroactive concern about our traumatic childhoods (The Wall Street Journal: “Is Gen X Nostalgia Just Trauma-Bonding?”) or lament our unfitness for jobs, our ill-fated careers and the fact that it seems unlikely we will ever have a true Gen X president — though, by the old measures, Barack Obama, born in 1961, qualifies. If you were to ask Gen X-ers about any of this, most would simply shrug.
As readers of this blog may know, I am obviously Generation X, and I am a Gen X writer, having published my Master's thesis on the novels of Douglas Coupland, and putting together a steady stream of Gen X commentary, including a popular piece on "Gen X Parenting."
If you really like a band, and you appreciate the music - the art - you should consider purchasing a digital download of the music on Bandcamp, rather than endlessly streaming it for free on Spotify. Bandcamp supports artists and enables them to earn money from the appreciation of their creativity, as opposed to Spotify and other streaming services which simply exploit the artists and the system, earning billions in fees while paying next-to-nothing for the product.
Earlier this year, Swedish musician Bjork called out Spotify and streaming services, calling them "probably the worst thing that has happened to musicians." And as a music fan, an artist, a writer, and a consumer, I couldn't agree more. Snoop Dogg made a similar claim two summers ago during a panel at the Milken Institute. The music and culture icon who changed the game of hip-hop in the 90s went off script, and said "Can someone explain to me how you can have a billion streams and not get a million dollars? Cause that shit don't make sense to me."
Snoop and Bjork are, of course, speaking from a time when all musicians could sell an actual product like an album, a cassette, or a CD, and earn a nice living from the deal, even when record companies and producers took a significant cut. The creation of MP3 files and streaming -- beginning with Napster -- changed everything, and not for the better as far as the artist is concerned. However, Napster and streaming didn't ruin the possibility of earning a decent living as a musician at that point, and the visionary artist and businessman Steve Jobs had much to do with that.
iTunes was a brilliant innovation and a real game-changer, enabling music fans to purchase single songs as digital downloads for $.99. That was actually a win-win for the artist and the consumer. For, as anyone over the age of thirty recalls, there were times you liked a song or two from a new release, but didn't want the entire album/CD/cassette for $10-$15. And, a perk of the iTunes was that those of us who had significant CD collections could upload all our albums to the iTunes account and carry our music everywhere on our iPods and later iPhones.
However, the predatory Swedish businessman and "technologist" Daniel Ek basically went and ruined everything, enriching himself to the tune of billions in the process. It's a bit of a complicated story to understand how Ek moved Spotify into such a dominant position, manipulating record companies and the biggest artists into signing lopsided deals for music acquisition in exchange for "access and exposure." And that deal is absurdly slanted to enable the company to earn billions in membership fees while paying microscopic "revenue sharing" with artists of basically $0.0032 per stream. If it were an iTunes model, a million "streams" or downloads would make nice profits for the band, too.
And, of course, as a Gen Xer, I won't claim that in the 70s and 80s I didn't make bootleg copies of cassettes or record songs off the radio. But for all that "theft," we still purchased a helluva lot of music, and honestly the 80s and 90s were the absolute heyday for bands making money on their music, even moderately successful ones. Granted, on the current streaming platforms, the biggest artists are still making huge cash. And I will concede, as will most musicians, that streaming has benefits of extending reach, garnering many listeners who would never know of the band or the song without streaming. But, as a music writer and researcher, I know of far too many excellent musicians who stream a ton of music, but still work and struggle to pay the bills, which wouldn't have been a problem with comparable sales in the pre-streaming era.
So, that is why I don't have a Spotify or AppleMusic account, and that's why I do have a Bandcamp account. While I haven't fully committed to the return to vinyl, I definitely plan to. And I have started purchasing digital downloads of some new favorites on Bandcamp. I will also acknowledge that I do "stream music," having had a Pandora account for years (I am, after all, in my 50s). But I see Pandora more like listening to the radio, which I also do extensively, and unlike radio, Pandora actually pays fees to the artists. Also, I have often pulled up music on YouTube, but I make an effort to listen to the ads so the artists still earn a little something from my appreciation of their art.
Now, I am sure that this post has plenty of inconsistences and even potential hypocrisies which I haven't fully thought through. But I stand by my position that Spotify and its streaming model has not been good for musicians. And, honestly, I think that the heavyweight artists could make a significant impact on the industry if they collectively moved to demand at least the option of buying digital downloads that would be shared with the artist.
By the way, this situation and point of view came on my radar just recently, when Westword, Denver's alt-weekly published a piece about Alternative Streaming Platforms for Denver Artists. And here are a couple other links to aspects of this issue.
Earlier this year, I published a piece on PopMatters about 10 Brilliant Music Books on the Art & Industry. Originally planned for last winter as a sort of 2024 gift guide of the best new releases for the music lover in your life, the piece morphed a bit into just a list of great books about music.
For many music fans, the next best thing to the actual songs is the story “behind the music”. For book lovers who are also music lovers, a well-written and often unexpected music book is a treat that feeds both passions. Music books come in various formats, including band memoirs, music criticism, and pop culture philosophizing. From Lester Bangs’ collection of reviews in Psychotic Reactions & Carburetor Dung to Henry Rollins’ incredible journal-turned-memoir Get in the Van: On the Road with Black Flag, the music book is a valuable part of the art and the industry, providing fans with insight and context on the artists and the music they love.
I can still recall the first music book that grabbed and held my attention from cover to cover – No One Here Gets Out Alive (1981), the seminal biography of legendary Doors frontman Jim Morrison by Danny Sugarman. That book was more than just a memoir; it was a key player in my rock ‘n’ roll coming of age. Over the last few years, I have seen numerous innovative and informative books from various music genres. From rock to hip-hop to country to punk to emo, here’s a list of superb reads to deepen the music education for you or the music lover in your life.
My originally piece was planned for Westword, Denver's Alt-Weekly that I occasionally freelance for, and now the magazine has published a 2025 version of the list I had originally planned. Local writer Adam Perry has assembled a list of the Best Music Books Released in 2025 covering books "from Cameron Crowe's memoir to a deep-dive into queer culture in pop music, these are the perfect gifts for the music lover in your life." I am really excited about the new work from Cameron Crowe, and I would also recommend last year's excellent career study on REM - The Name of the Band is REM.
Every year, we read a lot of new music books, and it’s not only so that music-loving readers have holiday gift ideas for their loved ones, or just themselves; it also saves you time reading the bad or mediocre books that don’t end up on this list. Here, in no particular order, are six great music-related books released in 2025 that would be a blessing to crack open on Christmas morning or really anytime. Head over to your favorite bookstore and grab a copy.
And while I was wandering around a great bookstore in La Jolla recently, I was intrigued by a new book on the indie music scene with the awesome title The Hours are Long, but the Pay is Low. I lived in Chicago in the late '90s, but was unaware of the alt-country-punk scene that gave rise to Bloodshot Records, and I'm sorry I missed it. So, I'm hoping to get some insight and new bands to add to my collection.
“The music business is not a meritocracy: it is a crapshoot taking place in a septic tank balanced on the prow of the Titanic, a venal snake pit where innovation, creativity, and honest business practices are actively discouraged.”
Rob Miller arrived in Chicago wanting to escape the music industry. In short order, he co-founded a trailblazing record label revered for its artist-first approach and punk take on country, roots, and so much else. Miller’s gonzo memoir follows a music fan’s odyssey through a singular account of Bloodshot Records, the Chicago scene, and thirty years as part of a community sustaining independent artists and businesses.
Hilarious and hundred-proof, The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low delivers a warm-hearted yet clear-eyed account of loving and living music on the edge, in the trenches, and without apologies.
There's no hype about duct-taped bananas coming out of south Florida this year, but it's almost Art Basel Miamitime, so there will undoubtedly be something stirring in the art world.
Arguably the biggest and most significant art festival in the United States each year, Art Basel Miami arrives this weekend, December 5-7, and while most of us art geeks will not be attending and rubbing shoulders with the world's elite artists, gallerists, dealers, patrons, and fashionistas, we can still live vicariously through the coming tidal wave of press and social media coverage.
The New York Times has a primer for those interested in attending:
The Miami Beach edition of Art Basel is unique in that it takes place on a single floor, rather than in a multistory location as the other Basel fairs in Hong Kong, Paris and Basel, Switzerland do.
Here, when visitors walk into the Miami Beach Convention Center, all 283 galleries from 43 countries sit adjacent to one another, a sea of paintings and people.
“You can feel that palpable hum of energy, people, art, light, landscapes — the whole cultural convergence — in that moment,” said Bridget Finn, director of Art Basel’s Miami Beach show. Finn, who took on the role just before the fair in 2023, came to Art Basel from the gallery world, having most recently served as a partner and managing director of the Detroit art gallery Reyes Finn.
And, of course, many other arts and culture writers will offer their insights and advice as well. Art Basel Miami is sort of the cornerstone of Miami Art Week, and there will also be plenty of coverage for art events flanking the festival, such as this piece from Casey Brennan for Grazia Magazine: "Everything to Know About Miami Art Week 2025"
Every December, Miami Beach becomes a stage where the worlds of art and fashion intersect under sunlight and spotlights. This year, Art Basel Miami Beach returns the first week of December, marking its twenty-third edition and a clear step forward for the fair’s evolution.
With 285 galleries from 44 countries and more than 40 first-time exhibitors, Basel 2025 feels both expansive and intimate—featuring legacy names while alive with new ideas.
For the first time, Art Basel introduces its global awards program, a new initiative celebrating artists, galleries, and curators shaping the cultural landscape today. The ceremony, set for December 4, is already one of the week’s most anticipated events—more than a gala, it’s a statement about where the art world is heading next. Inside the Convention Center, the works span every scale and medium, while beyond its walls, the city transforms into a living extension of the fair itself.
I can't recall when I first became aware of the festival that has been around since 2002 -- the original event and organization began in 1970. But as I have grown more interested in the art world, both as a general art geek as well as an occasional arts writer, the festival is now on my radar, and someday I may just hop on a plane and take the plunge.
Last year, I was intrigued to see Joe Taveras, an artist I'd been following for a while on Instagram, show up at Art Basel Miami with his new arts organization, the New Renaissance. And I thought that was pretty cool because Joe just started painting in the summer of 2020 during pandemic, and in just five years he was showing artists at a premier international art event. And that just goes to show you, as Joe has said, “It’s incredible what can happen in a year with passion, dedication, and perseverance.”
Roughly ten years ago, a well-educated journalist who is a staff writer for the New Yorker published a scathing hit job on Concord's favorite son, Henry Thoreau, a true American, and one of the most esteemed writers in the history of American letters. The piece was initially published with the crass moniker "Pond Scum," though I have to believe that a naturalist and a saunterer like Thoreau would have chuckled approvingly at being called such a name.
It's a bit of a mystery what prompted Kathryn Schulz -- who is by all accounts a talented, thoughtful writer -- to tee off on Thoreau, but she also appears to hate Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, and so she may simply be acting out the frustration so many high school students feel when confronted with "classic literature" that doesn't connect with them. For, while the piece is quite clearly well written, it's presented with all the patience and pondering of a petulant child.
Many Thoreauvians, as well as the general population of well educated readers and, of course, English teachers, were able to quickly discount most of Schulz's complaints and criticisms while also acknowledging that Thoreau can be "a bit prickly" as an individual, as a writer, and as a thinker. We're all going to have issues with someone as prolific on all manner of living as Thoreau was -- a man who, in addition to his incredible output of published writing in a short forty-four year life, also composed a near daily journal of more than two million words.
But most of us don't have such sneering contempt for such an iconic and significant writer, and that's mostly because we have put the time in to actually understanding the writing of the man. In other words, Kathryn Schulz simply doesn't get it, or him. And numerous accomplished writers responded in kind with responses, retorts, rebuttals, and corrections of the many myths about Thoreau and the simple ways he is misunderstood. Some of the best are Jedidiah Purdy's "In Defense of Thoreau" and Rebecca Solnit's "The Thoreau Problem." And perhaps the most astute piece about all the things that Schulz gets wrong is Donovan Hahn's "Everybody Hates Thoreau."
And, as I've been doing my work on "The Punk on Walden Pond," I'd like to add some insight from the esteemed and beloved American writer, E.B. White, who was an ardent Thoreauvian.
“Many think [Walden] is a sermon … an attempt to rearrange society ... an exercise in nature loving … a rather intimidating collection of inspirational puffballs by an eccentric show-off. I think it is none of these … Even as it is, it will continue to annoy the literal mind and all those unable to stomach its caprices and imbibe its themes ... To reject the book because of the immaturity of the author and the bugs in the logic is to throw away a good bottle of wine because it contains bits of cork. … [Thoreau] is a better companion than most, and I would not swap him for a soberer or more reasonable friend, even if I could.”
You see, Ms. Schultz and all those of her ilk who have failed to get the point, not to mention the joke, “Walden is a work of art and philosophy which ponders and argues and wonders in deep thoughtful fascination with life, but it’s also satire and irony as he critiques his society and a new economy that leads people to 'live lives of quiet desperation.'"
Well, Black Friday has come and gone again, but that doesn't mean you can't still make some purchases because it is officially small business Saturday. And what better place to spend some holiday cash than your local indie record store to pick up some new vinyl. Listening to the Colorado Sound as I regularly do, I was reminded that these two shopping celebrations -- small business and records -- are the perfect opportunity to support the local economy. And in Colorado's smokin' hot indie music scene, there are three incredible punk bands with new music to check out.
I've written about all these bands at some point, but there is news about three of my local favorites: Dead Pioneers,Cheap Perfume, and Elway.
First up is the notably named Elway, a veteran Colorado punk band that was once sued by the local football legend. It's been a bit since this classic punk group released new music, but we've waiting for a while now since I first wrote about the band last year when members were in town to record and decided to reunite for its only local show in 2024.
The new album, recorded at the Band Cave Studios in Park Hill is, Browne explains, “basically following up and questioning the nature of Best of All Possible Worlds.” With aggressively blunt new songs such as “Nobody’s Going to Heaven,” the music brings a reversal of the pondering philosophical fence-sitting between pessimism and optimism that characterized the last LP. The song, which Browne suggests might become the album title, “is a stream-of-consciousness wallowing about how demoralizing it is to sit and scroll on the phone watching unspeakable tragedies.”
“If this is where we are as a democratic society,” Browne continues with a sardonic chuckle, “maybe none of us deserve salvation.”
The long-awaited release is now out and available at your local vinyl shop. And the release of the first single is evidence that this LP was worth the wait. Denver Westword followed up with a piece on the new LP, and the band has released a single for "Living Epilogue":
At long last, after eighteen years, Elway put out a politically charged protest record.
But the latest from the Fort Collins-born indie-punk crew — Nobody’s Going To Heaven, released on October 10 via Chicago label Red Scare Industries — isn’t as obviously in-your-face as you’d assume from a genre known for telling Nazi punks to fuck off. It’s a more nuanced approach, with political undertones that highlight the chaos and carnage surrounding the Western world, while still offering an optimistic outlook overall.
Original vocalist-guitarist Tim Browne didn’t necessarily set out to make a record fueled by such fire and fury that went into Nobody’s Going To Heaven initially, and considers it “an indignant dispatch from within the walls of the crumbling empire.” It occurred naturally, he shares; he had no choice but to reflect on what he believes will ultimately lead to a “post-American world.”
“We’ve not really been historically a very political band,” Browne says. “There are some songs about politics, but generally, I’ve tried to avoid it just because I feel like it’s really easy to slide into tropes and platitudes. I’ve always been hesitant about writing about politics and tread lightly when I do.
Secondly, there is a Riot Grrrl Resurgence happening in indie music, and leading the way is an electrifying Colorado "fem-core" band called Cheap Perfume. This band, which is absolutely ferocious live in a small club, has been fiercely political since its inception, and it has never slowed since releasing the scorching single "It's Okay to Punch Nazis." Now the band is back with a new LP that confronts capitalist corruption and the authoritarian presidency and which Westword writes "Pummels Trump."
Punk music remains an important, historic form of protest, so it’s fitting that Denver femme punk outfit Cheap Perfume is set to drop a timely new album later this year.
The band has already released singles “Woke Mind Virus” and “Down to Riot” to tease the forthcoming album, Didn’t Ask. Don’t Care, which drops on October 3 via Snappy Little Numbers. Vocalist Stephanie Byrne, vocalist-guitarist Jane No, bassist Geoff Brent and drummer David Grimm have always worn their anti-capitalist, anti-fascist and pro-women political stances on their sleeves, following in the abrasive tradition of riot grrrl punk bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile.
No and Byrne describe the single “Woke Mind Virus” as emblematic of the album’s themes, with its jabs at capitalism, Elon Musk and right-wingers who attempt to “own the libs” with “anti-woke” agendas, which simply justify hate against the marginalized. They say the song also takes aim at ICE agents, health insurance CEOs and oligarchs who bow to these policies, questioning plainly in the bridge: What kind of person thinks it’s bad to be awake?
“This song, to me, is kind of like the manifesto for the album,” No says. “There have been a lot of radical changes in the world since our last release, so I thought it was important for us to come out with something bold.
“We wrote it in response to the inane ‘war on woke’ and people like Elon Musk demonizing empathy and saying that having compassion is weak,” she continues. “This song is a great gut check for the rest of the album… if you relate to what is being said here, I think you’re going to love the record. If it’s pissing you off? Don’t care, didn’t ask.”
And, finally, the powerful Indigenous punk rock outfit led by acclaimed Native visual artist Gregg Deal, Dead Pioneers, was recently back in the studio -- the iconic Blasting Room in Fort Collins -- to work on its third release for Hassle Records. But while we're waiting for that one, it's worth checking out Post-American,the second LP from the band that is as much a work of art and political manifesto as it is a blistering punk rock explosion which they performed in four shows opening for Pearl Jam last spring, followed by a European tour with Pennywise and Propaghandi.
In some ways, it was a couple of undergrad computer geeks at the University of Illinois that started it all.
Interestingly, I happened to work in the UIUC Engineering computer labs from 1989-92 when Marc Andreesen and Eric Bina were there developing what would become the first successful web browser that kicked off the wild digital economy we've been living in for the past thirty years.
I was thinking about that small but profoundly significant moment in American history yesterday when I read a feature in the New York Times titled The Writer Who Dared Criticize Silicon Valley by tech writer David Streitfeld. The story unpacks the history of writer and tech geek Paulina Borsook whose book Cyberselfishforesaw the the dark side of the Tech Boys who basically run the economy at this point.
Even Silicon Valley dislikes Silicon Valley. More than two-thirds of residents agreed in a 2024 poll that the tech companies have partially or completely misplaced their moral compass. And that was before so many in tech embraced the Trump administration.
Some of those who believe tech lost its way are finding explanations in a book published a quarter century ago. Paulina Borsook’s “Cyberselfish” saw the seeds of disaster in the late-1990s dot-com boom, which, she argued, transformed a community that was previously sober, civic-minded and egalitarian into something toxic.
Silicon Valley, Ms. Borsook wrote, hated governments, rules and regulations. It believed if you were rich, you were smart. It thought people could be, and indeed should be, programmed just like a computer. “Techno-libertarianism,” as she labeled it, had no time for the messy realities of being human.
It may seem a bit odd or contradictory to criticize the tech revolution on a digital blog, but the problems of our tech-dominated lives are all too real. From the deleterious impact cell phones are having on young people and the education system to the shocking embrace of sports betting in real time during games via digital apps, there is a certain reckoning to be had with the developments that came out of the computer labs in the middle of the Illinois prairie around 1990.
It's a quiet, calm, chilly Thanksgiving morning in Fort Collins, and I'm just home from a delightful trip to San Diego. It's a simple Thanksgiving this year, just the two of us at home with family spread across the country and the world. And, yet, all is well, and I am grateful for a good life.
I've been so blessed to live a fortunate and fulfilling life, and I am trying to live with more grace and compassion these days. Recently, I posted about keeping a gratitude journal in the days running up to the Thanksgiving holiday. And it's worth checking in with that idea once in a while. For many of us, our default setting is not one of compassion, grace, and empathy. It's one of judgment, criticism, and complaints. But each day offers a new chance to recalibrate.
As Eric Weiner knows all too well, time and place matter.
The talented author and public speaker spent many years on the road, chasing stories across the world as an NPR correspondent stationed in places like New Delhi, Jerusalem, and Tokyo. Having seen countless moments and incidents of struggle, conflict, and tragedy, Weiner channeled the opposite side of the human experience into his first book The Geography of Bliss, where he explored locations where the residents are known to be happier than the average person. It's not surprising that some of the most popular newspaper and magazine articles are on the subject of personal contentment, like the Danish concept of hygge, or the experience of cozy, comfy conviviality.
I first discovered Weiner's work with his third book The Geography of Genius, where he conducts "a search for the world's most creative places from Athens to Silicon Valley." Weiner asks the obvious question of why at certain times in certain places at certain moments in history there was an exponential growth of creativity and thinking. From the philosophers of ancient Greece to the coffeehouses of Vienna, genius builds upon itself and like-minded thinkers tend to gather and push each other to new intellectual heights.
Weiner's work is rich, engaging, and readable just like the numerous stories he told as a journalist bringing the world home.
In soccer it was "Bend it like Beckam" -- in the NBA these days, it's Jam like Jokic.
Or pass like Jokic, board like Jokic, shoot like Jokic, pick and roll like Jokic. The Serbian big man for the remodeled Denver Nuggets is the hottest thing in hardwood, and he is literally changing the game. And the Denver Post Nuggets Journal reports the smooth center has a growing legion of disciples in the league as, "the kids want to play like Jokic." That's the sign of greatness.
Nikola Jokic’s original disciple has outgrown the infant label.
Alperen Sengun is a fully formed All-Star by now, a synthesis of skill, strength and smarts at the center of the only NBA offense better than Denver’s.
“Baby Jokic” is his own person now, Actual Jokic declared this week.
“He’s talented. I think people are connecting (me) with him, but we are different types of player,” Jokic said. “He’s an amazing player. You can see some similarities, but I don’t want people to see him and tell me he’s something like me. I think that he’s a good enough player to have his own story.”
Having lived in Colorado for nearly a quarter-century, I have always heard that the Mile High City rivals San Diego for number of sunny days each year, nearly 300. That news always amazes non-Coloradans, and it's one of the Rocky Mountain State's best kept secrets -- you can golf in short sleeves in February in Denver if the sun is out and it's 50 degrees or better.
That said, Sunny San Diego is no mere moniker, and having never visited the southwestern city, we decided to spend a few days exploring with little agenda. And that made for a quite enjoyable Sunday. Staying in the Gaslamp Quarter -- a lively area of bars, restaurants, shops, and galleries near Petco Park, home of the Padres -- we were reminded of Lo-Do in Denver, home of the Rockies. After coffee and a tasty breakfast at a bodega-style spot called Cloud 9 Deli, we spent the late morning and early afternoon exploring a wonderful attraction, Balboa Park.
We took a trip around the world inside the park at the international cottages, learning about the cultures and enjoying some tasty treats by Italy, Denmark, Germany, and Israel. This mini-Epcot is a real treat, and I'd highly recommend it. The cottages are volunteer-run and only open from 12-4 on the weekends. We finished our evening off drinking and dining around Little Italy. Check out M Winehouse, a charming little bar in a small casual setting, and then grab some incredible slices at the Slice House by Tony Gemignani